


Broken Record: Heart Song

by timesuck



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Betty Cooper Gets Her Groove Back, F/M, How Do I Tag, Jughead Jones is Not Asexual, My First Fanfic, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timesuck/pseuds/timesuck
Summary: When she was brave enough to be honest with herself, Betty knew she was tired of feeling this way—like she was something to be pitied, like Jughead had been her only shot at love, like there was something wrong with her—so she made a decision: Even if her heart hadn’t figured it out yet, it was time to move on and find a new song to sing. She just didn’t quite know how, but she was open to suggestions from the universe.So when Reggie asked out Betty, as he had taken to doing semi-regularly, it had surprised everyone—herself included—when Betty had turned to him, locked her chin, looked him straight in the eye and said, simply, “Sure, pick me up at 7 on Friday,” before walking off.





	1. Chapter 1

It had been three months, and her heart had yet to decide to be _un_ broken on its own accord. Betty’s heart had always known what it wanted: for years, it had pined desperately for Archie with every heartbeat, and then, not so long after, its song had completely changed and its drumming was strong and clear and true: _Jughead, Jughead, Jughead._ Betty’s brain may have taken a little longer to catch up, but her heart had figured it out early, and now was being terribly slow on the post-break up uptake. It was like it was stuck on repeat.

But the time line for pathetically yearning after being dumped—even a break up as spectacularly explosive as hers and Jughead’s had been, even by high school standards—was still somewhere around two months. They’d split in February, and it was now the end of May. She definitely was past the socially acceptable mourning period. But that didn't mean she had figured out how to stop feeling so lonely.

At first, Betty had tried all the advice from friends and family that she could stomach, though most of it felt foolish when compared to the well of desperation and sadness she felt inside. _Buy a new shade of lipstick! s_ uggested Cosmo. _Dance the night away with me and Kev a_ _t the Chit Chat Lounge_ _,_ cajoled Veronica, with a glint in her eye that meant lots of alcohol and too much attention from older men. _Focus on school and the internship with the Mayor’s office,_ demanded her mom—which was the exact thing Alice Cooper would say. In its own way, it almost reassuring in that her mom was still completely and totally her mom, after everything that had happened _._ Even if that meant she was a total witch most of the time.

Betty had tried it all—but the lipstick sat, untouched, on her dresser. Betty was pretty positive that consumerism wasn’t a viable recovery strategy for most teenagers (too much emotional pain and too small a budget). Plus, Diva Red had been a mistake and made her teeth look a little yellow.

The night of dancing hadn’t worked either, and instead had ended predictably with too much alcohol and tears and vomit in the bathroom at Chit Chat, followed by a truly awful hangover when she woke up the next day at Veronica's. “Not my best look,” Betty had said, dryly, when she finally got up to pee and caught sight of herself in the ornate mirror as she washed her hands. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, her hair was matted, and she knew, above all else, she really must have seemed truly pathetic the night before, because Veronica had popped her head in and hugged her sharply before heading out to grab bagels for breakfast, without any mention of how _the best_ _cure for a broken heart is a girls’ night out, B_ _w_ hich had been her go-to quip for weeks whenever she caught Betty looking wistfully towards Jughead’s old locker in the halls.

And Betty was still keeping up with school—that much was ingrained into her—so her mom didn’t have much to complain about there. She still studied and aced the tests and did all the extra credit anyways. The internship was fine; she plastered on a smile and answered phones and printed copies, and occasionally was called in to meet someone important in local government, where she gave her best Betty Cooper, Perfect Girl Next Door schtick and wowed them with her gumption and drive and her _gee wiz, I never knew town planning could be so interesting!_ niceties. She had impressed her boss, and been offered a paid summer gig at the office, but none of it was helping other than that it gave her somewhere to go after school that wasn’t the Blue and Gold office, or Pop’s, or her bedroom—all places that used to be for her and Jughead (which, Betty thought, was the real reason why her mom had signed her up for it in the first place, back when they were still together).

Betty knew that there was no lip color or night out or extracurricular activity that would magically make her feel better. But when she was brave enough to be honest with herself, she knew she also was tired of feeling this way—like she was something to be pitied, like this had been her only shot at love, like there was something wrong with _he_ _r_ _—_ so she made a decision: Even if her heart hadn’t figured it out yet, it was time to move on and find a new song to sing. She just didn’t quite know how to make her heart get the memo, but she was open to suggestions from the universe.

___________________________

So when Reggie asked out Betty, as he had taken to doing semi-regularly (so much that maybe it wasn’t even an offer anymore, just as his particular brand of teenage masculinity manifesting as a greeting), it had surprised everyone—herself included—when Betty had turned to him, locked her chin, looked him straight in the eye and said, simply, “Sure, pick me up at 7 on Friday,” before walking off.

If you ask Kevin, it happened like this: Reggie and Archie were at their lockers, exuding the swagger that only two high school jocks on the varsity football team can pull off as charm, when Betty opened the hall doors and started off towards AP Chem. They both watched her walk towards the classroom, noticing her long legs and blue sweater, which—to be fair—did make her eyes pop. “Hey Cooper, ready to finally move on from Wednesday Addams? Let me take you out this weekend; I promise we’ll have fun,” called Reggie as she passed, expecting that she’d roll her eyes and keep on walking, just like she always did.

But instead, she’d actually said yes.

No one quite knew how to react to that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Uhhh, what?" asked Archie. 
> 
> "Did you hear that? I got a date with Cooper!" whooped Reggie.
> 
> "Down, boy," said Kevin.
> 
> "What?!" squeaked Veronica.
> 
> Or: Various reactions to some unexpected decisions from Betty.

“Uhhh, what?” asked Archie, more to himself than to anyone else. He replayed the conversation that he’d just witnessed in his head. _Betty. Had said yes to a date. With Reggie._ He wondered briefly if he was in the midst of a hyper-realistic dream, the kind he had sometimes when his alarm had already gone off and he kept pressing snooze. The dreams were usually mundane—get up, take a shower, eat breakfast—like his brain knew he was supposed to start his morning routine, even if his body didn’t. Maybe this was just one of those, and he’d slept through the last alarm completely. Maybe he was really sprawled in his bed with the day still ahead of him in its entirety. It seemed more plausible than anything else he could come up with, or the bizarre possibility that this was, somehow, real life.

Betty, in her newfound resolve, continued her walk to AP Chem and didn’t turn back once.

Reggie, on the other hand, could not stop staring after her. “Did you hear that? I got a date with Cooper!” he whooped, after she’d walked through the door and out of sight.

“Down, boy” said Kevin from his locker, a few feet across the hall, and laughed lightly when Reggie had the decency to softlyblush. “No offense, but don’t fuck this up, okay? Betty Cooper is not here for your heterosexist macho bullshit. And, come to think of it—neither am I.”

Reggie was still looking at the now-closed door to the science classroom, where he’d last seen Betty enter. He turned to Kevin. “Yeah, I know. I just… I never thought she’d say yes. That wasn’t even me at my most suave!”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “You mean basically catcalling a girl and insulting her ex at 8:30 in the morning on a Wednesday _isn’t_ you at your most charming? Could have fooled me, Mantle,” said Kevin as he shut his locker and turned to leave for his next class, but he was smiling. This was exciting. This was good. This could be just what Betty needed. At the very least, this was an amazing piece of gossip, and he could not _wait_ to be the one to tell Veronica.

Reggie turned to Archie. “Hey bro, do you think I should borrow my dad’s Beamer to pick her up?” But Archie was already halfway down the hall, with a short wave and a tight smile. “I’ve got to get to class, man—if I’m late for Shop again, Mr. Kroskut will have my ass on a stick.” Archie turned and pushed through the doors, nearly knocking into Cheryl Blossom.

“More than Miss Grundy had your ass, Arch?” she asked, salaciously. _Nice_ _word choice, Archie_ _,_ he thought to himself as he jammed his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet. _T_ _oday is going just great._ He brushed passed Cheryl and out into the next hall.

Reggie didn’t even notice. He was staring again at the door to AP Chem and grinning.

___________________________

“B, _what_ is this that I hear about a date with a certain football star?” asked Veronica over lunch in the cafeteria. Kevin had texted her during first period and hinted that he had big news to share, but he insisted that he tell her in person. This had made her stomach drop, just a little, because this town was not exactly without its share of murder (attempted or otherwise), and because—underneath their group’s warm fuzzies—there were a few developments that she would rather not become public knowledge. Most of them having to do with Archie, who was notoriously bad at secrets ( _and especially the_ _secrets_ _that had to do_ _with Archie and girls,_ she thought to herself nervously). She was, honestly, surprised that they had made it just over two weeks and as far as she could tell, he hadn’t told anyone.

Kevin had met her in the hall between English and Math, and when she’d finally convinced him to stop torturing her and spit it out, Veronica had dropped her textbooks and gasped—mainly in disbelief, and a little for the theatrics. She was Veronica Lodge, after all. “What?!” she had squeaked, so loudly that Cheryl had turned around from the other end of the hallway with an intrigued, raised eyebrow and a dangerous gleam in her eyes. _Oh shit,_ thought Veronica, as she’d pushed Kevin toward Pre-Calc. “We _will_ talk about this later,” she’d hissed into his ear. “I need literally every single detail.”

But here at lunch, she was trying to not make it a big deal, afraid that her friend would clam up and eventually cancel if they all paid her too much attention. On the other hand, this was huge. Betty had finally decided to stop moping over Jughead and move on. With Reggie Mantle, of all people. It was impossible to _not_ have a reaction to that.

“Yeah, Betty—I am all for you getting over this slump you’ve been in, but. Um. What led you to… decide to go with this particular suitor?” asked Kevin, with his chin in his hand. “I never pegged you for the kind of girl to fall for the star of the football team. Unless, of course, he’s a certain redheaded golden boy,” he said with a wink.

Veronica stiffened slightly. Betty rolled her eyes.

“If you’re asking me why I’m not trying to _get over Jughead_ by spending another few years _pining_ _hopelessly_ _for Archie_ , I’d kindly ask you to reconsider your logic,” said Betty. “Besides, reliving all my tales of romantic rejection doesn’t really sound like the best way to heal a broken heart.” She looked at Kevin with a small grimace, and he made an apologetic face.

Veronica let out a short breath that she didn’t realize she’d been holding in.

“And I decided to go with this ‘particular suitor’ because, among other reasons, Reggie was the only suitor. And,” she paused slightly, trying to decide if this was a conversation she really wanted to be having in the school cafeteria, surrounded by her classmates. “And I just need to not be trapped in my head about this anymore. I don’t know if I’m exactly over how things went down between me and Jug, but it’s clear that Jughead is.” She shook her head slightly and looked down at her hands, willing herself not to press her nails into the silver half moon scars across her palms. “Reggie is… a player, and kind of a joke, but I think he’s mostly harmless. He’s an oaf, sure—but even a night out with an oaf has to be better than how I feel now.”

Veronica wrapped her arm around Betty’s shoulder. “Oh, B” she said, “We’re not questioning it, exactly. I think it’s good you’re getting back out there. And Reggie does have a little _je ne sais quoi—_ I mean, have you seen him in his football uniform?” She giggled as she pulled Betty closer. “We just had no idea you’d decided to start dating again. And Reggie… well, you know. He kind of has a ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ stance when it comes to romance.”

“Well, obviously I know that!” Betty said, somewhat exasperatedly. “But I’m not exactly looking for something serious, and—”

“Whoa,” said Kevin. “Are you saying your plan is to have a ‘no strings attached’ situation with Reggie freakin’ Mantle?”

Betty glared at him. “God, no. I just mean, I know _he’s_ not looking for anything serious either.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I’m not even sure why he asked me out, and I’m _definitely_ not sure why I said yes. But I did, and I’m going.” She looked at both her friends, a flash of defiance skirting across her face.

 _It’s good to see her like this_ , thought Kevin. _Maybe she’s got the right idea—_ _deciding it’s time to move on_ _._ He smiled back and reached his hand across to the girls, pulling them both in.

___________________________

Archie spotted his friends across the cafeteria. Betty and Veronica were on one side of the table, drawn together in a sweet embrace. Kevin, from across the table, had his hand on Betty’s. The whole thing looked intimate, like his friends were all having a moment without him.

Archie walked over anyways.

“Hey guys!” he said, as he plopped down with his tray of pizza. “What’re we talking about?”

“Oh, nothing much,” said Kevin. “Just that our girl Betty is finagling for a little friends-with-benefits hook up with your bro Mantle.”

“Kevin! That is in no way what I just said!” But Betty was smiling, and Archie all of a sudden felt very strange. Oh, right. This morning. Of course that’s what they were talking about.

“Besides,” Betty continued, “I’m not sure I’m cut out for that exact set-up. I can barely handle my own feelings _now_ , without introducing any new elements into my currently non-existent sex life. And I think maybe that kind of arrangement always ends badly for at least one of the involved parties.”

Archie could feel Veronica’s eyes on him, so instead he looked down at his pizza and tried very hard to not think about Betty’s use of the word “currently.”

“Oh girl, don’t be such a prude,” scoffed Kevin. “Wait, I mean—don’t sleep with Reggie? I kind of forgot which side I’m on with this one,” he said with a laugh.

“You’re on my side—which means, come over on Friday and help me get ready?” she asked. She turned to Veronica, “Sorry V. I’d invite you too, but you know Alice is still on a tear about the latest Lodge real estate venture. I swear to god, my mom has vendettas with everyone in this town.”

“No worries B, Mama Cooper is no joke. You’ll just have to text me outfit options so I can weigh in. Oooh, and let me know if you want to borrow anything; maybe that black dress with all the zippers? It has pockets!” suggested Veronica, helpfully.

For the first time in months, Betty felt a small bubble of happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, I'm #TeamBeggie and I don't quite know where that came from. 
> 
> Also, sorry that Archie is sooooort of a grade A jerk in this. (But also, not sorry, because that's just true to character -- yeah, I said it.)
> 
> Second chapter of my first fic ever in two days! I do it all for the comments.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Agreeing to a date with Reggie isn’t a desperate cry for help, if that’s what you’re worried about. Maybe it just means I want something easy,” said Betty.
> 
> “Oh, I’m pretty sure it’s a guarantee that Reggie Mantle is easy,” teased Kevin. “Seriously though. This just seems… very un-Betty of you.”
> 
> She turned back to her mirror, and reached for her makeup bag. “I think maybe that’s the point.”

As it turned out, the borrowed black dress was _not_ the right look, thought Betty as she pulled it up and over her head and dropped it to her closet floor. It was too low cut, too tight, too—well, too _Veronica._ It made her feel like she was wearing a costume. She sighed. This had been one of nice things about dating Jughead: They had been friends since before kindergarten—he had seen her through chicken pox and braces and her awkward growth spurt in 6 th grade when she’d suddenly been the tallest kid in their class, ungainly and constantly tripping over her own feet. He'd stood by her when her family had fallen apart, and with him, she'd felt completely safe. When they were together, she hadn’t felt any pressure to look or be anyone other than herself. Plus, he wasn’t exactly the type to pay attention to what she wore—though he had noticed her color-coordinated bra and underwear sets, sweetly teasing her for her longstanding commitment to matching as he’d slid them off, nipping at her neck. He’d always liked the black ones best. She frowned slightly, not keen on indulging this particular train of thought.

“What’s up, buttercup?” asked Kevin, lying stretched across her bed. “Did you all of a sudden come to your senses and remember that you’re about thirty minutes away from a date with a boy who, on occasion, still refers to himself as ‘Mantle the Magnificent?’”

Betty rolled her eyes. “No. Like I said before, I’m going on this date and you can’t talk me out of it.” She grabbed a floral fit-and-flare dress from its hanger and held it up across her body. _Ugh. Are you going to church or_ _on_ _a date?_ She tossed it aside, too.

“Well, far be it from me to stand in the way of Betty Cooper getting her groove back.” Kevin paused and cleared his throat.“That being said… I don’t mean this to sound judgmental, but what exactly are you doing, girl?”

Betty reached for her favorite denim miniskirt and her leather ankle boots with the small heel. She rummaged in the back of her closet for a short-sleeved cream top, putting it on and tucking it in. She turned to look at herself in the mirror. The shirt was slightly more low cut than her usual look for school and the skirt hugged her hips more than she remembered—but she liked it. It was simultaneously familiar and yet, a new look.

“I told you; I don’t entirely know.” She turned away and looked at Kevin. “But agreeing to a date with Reggie isn’t a desperate cry for help, if that’s what you’re worried about. Maybe it just means I want something easy.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure it’s a guarantee that Reggie Mantle is easy,” teased Kevin. **“** Seriously though. This just seems… very _un-_ Betty of you.”

She turned back to her mirror, and reached for her makeup bag. “I think maybe that’s the point.” She paused, opening her mouth slightly to apply a generous coat of mascara across her eyelashes. “My entire romantic life has been wrapped up in my two best guy friends.” Kevin made a small noise of mock indignation. “I mean, _other_ than you, of course.” Their eyes met in the mirror and they smiled at each other’s reflections.

“But with both Archie and Jughead, everything always felt like such high stakes.” She thought back, remembering to when she’d finally told Archie how she felt, that night of the Back to School Semi Formal—and how crushed she’d been by the end of it. That had been bad, but what had followed—when Jughead had started becoming withdrawn and distant, until the day he looked her in the eye and told her that he didn’t want to be with her, that, as he’d put it, he “couldn’t live up to her perfect standard and didn’t want to try anymore”— _that_ had been much worse. “Going on a date with Reggie doesn’t feel like life or death. It just feels like a fun way to spend my Friday night, and not end up with a broken heart.” Well, a _more_ broken heart, she mused bitterly, before pushing the thought away. “I’m not overly emotionally invested in this, and I _like_ that.”

“Invest without emotion. I get it—believe me, I’m a gay male teenager in the age of Grindr, not that Riverdale has much to offer in that regard; plus, it’s good stock market advice.”

Betty watched Kevin from across the room. She took a small breath. “Actually, Kev. I know you haven’t really wanted to talk about Joaquin. And that’s fine; I don’t want to talk about my Southside split either.” As close as they were, neither she nor Kevin had been very forthcoming about their feelings, choosing instead to offer and accept shoulders to cry on, without much talk. “But if you want to get back out there, I did a little digging and found a LGBTQIA youth meet-up nearby. I could go with you, if you’d like,” she added after.

“The one in Greendale? Yeah, I’ve been a few times.” Kevin said.

“Oh. I didn’t know you knew about it. You’ve never mentioned going,” Betty stopped herself. “I mean, not that you should have, if you didn’t want to.”

“There’s not much to report, I’m sorry to say. I think I first went when I was twelve, maybe? It was right after I sat my parents down and announced that I wanted to marry Liam Hemsworth. Thank god my tastes have evolved passed that; who needs to share men with Miley Cyrus,” Kevin let out a quick laugh. “My dad drove me and waited next door in the bookstore.” It had been sweet, actually, looking back on it now—how nervous he had been, how anxious his dad was for him to find some sort of local queer community. “But it’s very ‘Rated G’ and everyone is either in a relationship or definitely not my type. I’m a sucker for tall, dark, handsome and secretly spying on me and my friends to keep us from solving a murder,” he joked.

Betty frowned. “Have you heard from Joaquin, since he left?”

Kevin rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling, noticing the small cracks in the white paint and the dust particles clinging to the trim near the left corner of the room. _Alice Cooper, slacking off on her dusting_ he thought idly.

Kevin had heard from Joaquin. Only once, in the form of a plain postcard; the front of which had read “Greetings from San Junipero” over a cartoon city skyline. The back had said, simply, “Sorry. I didn’t mean it,” and was signed in Joaquin’s familiar scrawl. _Didn’t mean it—like, didn’t mean to hurt me, or didn’t mean it—like, our whole ‘relationship’ was a lie?_ Kevin had thought when he’d found it peeking out of the mailbox on his way home from school, a few weeks after Joaquin had boarded the bus and left Riverdale forever. It was, like everything that Joaquin had said and done in the brief time they’d known each other, impossible to fully decipher given what he knew now.

“No,” Kevin said eventually. “I haven’t heard from him.” There was no point in mentioning the postcard. It didn’t change anything; Joaquin was still gone. Or rather, Joaquin—the person that Kevin had met and fallen for, and kissed hungrily, happily for hours—had never really existed.

“Okay,” Betty said softly. She thought about saying _I’m sorry_ , but didn’t. If one more person told her they were _sorry_ that Jughead had dumped her, she thought she might scream. And Jughead was, for better or for worse, still living in the same town and not scattered to the wind.

“But enough doom and gloom,” said Kevin, pushing himself up on his arms with a start to turn around to face her again. “This is _not_ appropriate pre-date conversation. And it’s already 6:50, which is my cue to exit.” He planted down his legs and stood up. “I like the look, by the way. It’s very—”

“Don’t say Betty Draper Season 5,” said Betty, cutting him off. Cheryl’s old insult had now become somewhat of an inside joke between them, but all of a sudden she was feeling a little too nervous for it to feel funny.

“I was going to say effortless. Minimalism is in these days, you know.” Kevin gave her a quick hug. “Have fun tonight, and text me immediately when you’re back. I want to hear _everything_ ,” he said, before making his way out the door and into the hallway. Since he knew Betty’s mom wasn’t home, he added, “Remember: Safe sex is hot sex!” and chuckled as he heard her small shriek.

___________________________

“Friday, Friday—gotta get down on Friday,” sang Reggie to himself as he washed his hair in the shower. Rebecca Black was definitely not his go-to choice in music (he’d stick to Drake or Kanye over dated tween pop drivel, thank you very much), but all day he hadn’t quite been able to get over that it was, in fact, Friday. The day of his date with Betty. The song had soon followed the realization, and now was stuck.

Reggie exited the shower and began to towel himself dry. He grabbed his Axe body spray and let loose two clouds, one under each armpit. He put on his maroon boxers and dark jeans—the ones that folded over twice and hung over his sneakers, just right—a gray crew neck t-shirt, and his letterman jacket.

Looking in the mirror, Reggie ran a comb through his hair and gave himself one of his winning smiles. Betty had thrown him off his game slightly when she’d agreed to tonight, but in the end, the result was the same: he got the girl. He was, after all, Reggie Mantle. It wasn’t like he had never been on a date before.

Except that, it sort of _was_ like that, just a little bit. The times he’d taken out Ginger Lopez or Tina Patel or Melody Valentine for an official Friday night dinner and a movie, they’d already gotten most of the awkward, early stuff out of the way. He’d already won them over, already knew what their mouth tasted like and how they looked with their lips around his cock. Reggie had a somewhat predictable modus operandi when it came to girls, he knew, but it generally worked for him—and who was he to mess with a method that got results?

With Ginger, they’d found themselves alone at one of Cheryl’s parties after a few drinks, and well—one thing led had to another. After that, they’d hooked up under the bleachers after one of Reggie’s basketball games (it had been the one against Central, he remembered, because he’d been especially pumped that he’d scored the winning shot), and then a few more times: when he’d given her a ride home, and at that rager Veronica had thrown when her mom was out of town. By the time Ginger had said, “I’ve been thinking about us...” he knew what she was asking for, so they’d done the whole ‘date night’ thing. With Tina and Melody, it had gone down similarly.

In most ways, the actual dates were really just a formality—a way for the girl to feel like he actually liked her, to get her friends off her back, so that her parents didn’t ground her for the hickey that he’d accidentally-on-purpose given her above her shirt’s neckline—Reggie wasn’t entirely sure what the reasons had been in each case, but he knew it hadn’t felt like _this._

 _Get your head in the game,_ he thought to himself, as he glanced at the clock. It was 6:50; time to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, writing Reggie is hard, y'all. At one point, my draft included a now-scrapped scene that featured the line "Reggie had, as usual, fucking killed it at sports ball," because this is how much I know about sports, and also the thoughts and feelings of teenage boys.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, dinner and a movie? Isn’t that the standard Reggie Mantle Date Night Experience?” said Betty. 
> 
> Reggie looked startled but quickly schooled his features back into a smug grin. Betty rolled her eyes. “I mean, it’s not exactly like you’ve updated your moves since 8th grade. And our school is tiny. I’ve heard all about you, Mantle.”
> 
> Suddenly, he hated the idea that Betty felt like she knew what she was getting with him, like he was bush league and couldn’t up his game. He scoffed. “Alright Cooper, change of plans.” He checked his phone. “We’ll have to hurry though, and no promises on dinner."

Reggie pulled up to Betty’s house at 7:03 in his dad’s new BMW and sauntered up to her porch. He rang the bell and in a few moments, Betty opened the door and stepped outside.

His eyes grazed up her body, noticing her long legs and her short skirt, and he made a small noise of approval. Betty shot him an annoyed look, but then blushed slightly when she met his eyes. “So,” she said. “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Reggie agreed, smirking as he held her gaze. His eyes flicked back to her darkened home. “I have to admit, I was expecting more of the third degree from the Cooper household.”

Betty crossed her arms. “Well, lucky for you—no one’s here. My mom’s still at the office, finishing up tomorrow’s edition of the paper.” She paused. This was one conversation that certainly seemed to fall outside advised topics for a first date. “My dad’s not living here right now. He’s renting an apartment across town at Sweetwater Village.”

She didn’t need to mention that Polly was also gone. After the arrests and the fire at Thornhill, Polly had decided that she needed to start over. Everyone in Riverdale knew who she was—that unmarried, unstable Cooper sister, carrying dead Jason Blossom’s twins—and had known the moment that she’d left; small-town gossip always spread quickly, like an outbreak. Betty hated that Polly wasn’t there but she couldn’t blame her for leaving. She was living in Maine to build a new life, trying to forget this last year had ever happened. Betty had been out to visit just once, when the twins were born. Polly still called and she texted Betty pictures of the kids—but she had intended to put distance between herself and Riverdale when she left, and Betty sometimes felt like their relationship was collateral damage. _I can’t believe I’m_ _not there to see Polly be a mom; to help Adeline and Jason Jr. grow up_ _,_ she felt with a flash of sadness.

“Shit,” said Reggie. “That’s rough. _Parents_ _,_ you know? Mine can be such assholes sometimes.”

“Totally,” said Betty. But in regards to his own home life, Betty didn’t actually know what Reggie meant by that. From what she remembered of the times she’d seen his family around town or at school events, they’d seemed happy and supportive of their star-athlete son. _Not that looks c_ _an’t_ _be deceiving_ , she thought. _If Alice Cooper’s entire adult life_ _was_ _any indication._

But fraught conversations about dysfunctional families were not, at all, why Betty had agreed to this date. “Anyways,” she began, eager to change the subject. “Dinner and a movie? Isn’t that the standard Reggie Mantle Date Night Experience?”

Reggie looked startled, but quickly schooled his features back into a smug grin. Betty rolled her eyes. “I mean, it’s not exactly like you’ve updated your moves since 8th grade. And our school is tiny. I’ve heard all about you, Mantle.”

To be honest, dinner and a movie had been exactly what Reggie had planned for their night, with hopes for maybe something a little more in the darkened theater or when he dropped Betty back at home. He had made reservations at Celia’s for dinner, and looked up movie times at the Bijou. On the drive over, Reggie had felt that this was a solid course of action.

But suddenly, he hated the idea that Betty felt like she _knew_ what she was getting with him, like he was bush league and couldn't up his game. He scoffed. “Alright Cooper, change of plans.” He checked his phone. “We’ll have to hurry though, and no promises on dinner.”

“Hurry where?” asked Betty quizzically, but he could tell she was intrigued. _Good_ , thought Reggie. He liked feeling like he had the upper hand, like he could keep her on her toes. “You’ll see," he said, as he ushered her towards the car.

___________________________

They drove in what would have been awkward silence except for Kendrick Lamar, loudly blaring from the car’s speakers. Reggie was surprised that Betty didn’t press him on where they were going as he drove through town, passing MLJ Comics and Pop’s as they made their way down Riverdale’s main drag. But once he pulled onto the highway, Betty turned to him with wide eyes. “Uh, Reggie?” she said, and he could tell that she was getting nervous. “Where exactly are you taking me?”

“Relax, Coop,” he told her. But after a moment, he added, “Just two more exits, and then we’re there.”

“We’re driving to Midvale?” Betty scrunched up her nose, and cocked her head to the side. “Why?”

“I’m upgrading your Reggie Mantle Date Night Experience from standard to platinum,” Reggie stated, and watched her eyebrows shoot straight up before turning his head back toward the road.

___________________________

“Um, Reggie—no offense, but I’m not exactly sure this was an upgrade,” said Betty, as Reggie pulled into a dilapidated gas station and an adjoining 7-11. “This is _not_ our final stop,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He got out of the car and jogged over to the store, exiting minutes later with a plastic bag and two hot dogs drizzled with cheap yellow mustard. “Sustenance,” he explained as he opened the door, handing her one and wolfing down the other. Betty took a bite and peered at the collection of items as Reggie started driving again: Cool Ranch Doritos, a bottle of blue Gatorade and a Sprite, trail mix and a bag of Sour Patch Kids. “Again, I’ll say: I’m not sure this was an upgrade,” she lightly teased.

Reggie drove few more blocks, then steered the car into another parking lot. “Alright, _now_ we’re here,” he said, shutting off the ignition and turning to Betty. He wanted to watch her face as she figured out their destination. Betty was finishing her hot dog and wiped her mouth before she looked up at the building in front of them, and then turned to him. “Reggie,” she said, a hint of laughter bubbling up behind her words. “Are you taking me to the Science Museum? On a _date_?”

 _Not so predictable now,_ _huh,_ he thought. “You’re Betty Cooper, Girl Genius. I figure this must be your dream come true. But we should head in—the show started already.”

“The show?” Betty was outwardly laughing now. “We’re going to the Planetarium?”

“Platinum upgrade means I give you the stars,” said Reggie, which he knew sounded cheesy—but which he also thought he could pull off. Betty giggled. “That was horrible,” she said, but she was still smiling as they made their to the museum entrance.

___________________________

They had missed the first ten minutes of _Undiscovered Worlds: The Search Beyond Our Sun._ Reggie bought their tickets and they entered the theater to find it nearly empty, so they had their pick of seats. On the way in, Betty had quirked her brow and pointed to the two signs hanging on either side of the planetarium doors: _No_ _f_ _ood_ _a_ _llowed._ “Live a little,” said Reggie as he rolled his eyes, carrying the bag of convenience store contraband between them.

Once they sat down, Betty found herself entranced. She hadn’t been to the planetarium since she and Polly were little and even though the theater was small and outdated, with the lights down and the stars and planets flying all around them, there was something almost magical about it. The idea that there was so much out there, beyond Riverdale—not just in the world, but throughout the universe. It made Betty feel humbled and powerful all at once.

As they left the theater, it was clear that the museum was shutting down for the night. It had been nearly deserted when they’d arrived, but now—with the exhibits roped off and the ticket windows drawn—it had an air of stillness, like the building itself was being put to sleep. It made Betty feel like they should be whispering.

They paused by the museum doors. Betty reached for her pale pink cardigan, folded in her purse, when Reggie abruptly turned around and headed back towards a vending machine near the theater and returned moments later. “Astronaut ice cream,” he said triumphantly, by way of explanation.

Betty tried not to think about the calories that tonight’s meal had entailed, and instead examined his choices in flavors. “Chocolate and strawberry,” she commented.

“Well, we have to see how they compare to a Pop’s milkshake,” Reggie said, as though it were obvious.

They were outside now, and it dawned on Betty that she had no idea where they were going next. It was possible that Reggie was about to revert to the version of him that she had expected and ask if she wanted to drive to Lookout Point, the local hook-up spot. But instead, he walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, turning his head to peer up at the sky. “It’s crazy that there’s so much out there,” he said, and Betty joined him on the bench. They sat in silence together looking at the stars.

___________________________

“Okay, not that I’m complaining,” said Betty after a few minutes, “but how did you possibly think to come here tonight?”

“My dad’s on the board of the museum,” said Reggie. “We used to come here all the time when I was a kid. For awhile, I wanted to be an archaeologist and I was obsessed with that excavation exhibit—you know, where they let kids dig up fake artifacts in a glorified sandbox.” Betty nodded. “And when we were talking at your house, I randomly remembered your 4th grade science fair project on the solar system.”

Betty looked down at her shoes.  _Reggie Mantle, who are you?_ she thought to herself. It was hard for her to recall a time that predated when Reggie was defined by sports and his athleticism. Tonight had not been what she’d expected. Betty had been looking for a nice night out of the house, spent with a boy who met the criteria of being a) not Jughead; b) at least potentially interested in her, and; c) someone who she, too, found somewhat attractive. She hadn’t know what to anticipate beyond that, and while their evening together had technically passed that test, it didn’t explain why Betty now was feeling slightly thrown.

Reggie opened the bags of freeze-dried ice cream, popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. He tilted the bags toward Betty and she selected a chunk of strawberry. Nibbling its corner, she scrunched up her face. “Well,” she said with a laugh, “Tonight we learned all about outer space, and also that that astronaut food isn’t as good as a real-life milkshake.”

“I’d say we should hit up the Chock’lit Shoppe, but I think we’d miss your curfew,” said Reggie.

“I guess we’ll just have get some next time,” replied Betty, before she’d realized what she was saying.

“Next time?” said Reggie, with a smirk. “Isn’t that a little presumptuous of you, Cooper?” Betty could feel the blush creeping all the way down her cheeks to her neck.

___________________________

The drive back to Riverdale felt faster than the way out Midvale, but thirty minutes later Reggie was pulling up to her house and parked the car. He could tell that Betty had enjoyed herself tonight and that he had knocked the proverbial ball out of the park. _Now to round the bases_ , he thought to himself as he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face Betty, leaning towards her.

This was the part of the evening that felt most familiar to Reggie: parked somewhere in the dark with a pretty girl in a nice car, filling the silence with basic conversation until he could make his move. But even in its familiarity, tonight with Betty again felt somehow _different_ to him. Reggie was used to the thrills of anticipation that always came before a first kiss, but that had always been tied to a sense of of accomplishment—that moment _after_ his lips were on hers, when Reggie would feel a flash of pride in how he had just known that the girl (whoever she was) would open herself up to him.

But here with Betty, Reggie was aware that this was more than just anticipation. He was, it occurred to him with a shock, nervous. He wasn't entirely sure how she'd react if he kissed her now. It also occurred to him that he’d like to see Betty again, to take her up on that offer for milkshakes at Pop’s and watch her smile bloom as she enjoyed that first, perfect sip.

He shifted back in his seat. “And I have you back home just in time, too.”

Betty grabbed her phone out of her bag. Reggie could see a flurry of texts, probably from Kevin or Veronica. She must have kept it on silent all night. “Ah, not quite,” she said. “Seven minutes late.”

“Where’s Alice with her torch and pitchfork?” asked Reggie. Betty grimaced slightly. “I think she must like you. Or rather, she must like that your parents own most of the _Register.”_ Reggie felt himself slide back in his seat again at that.

“Anyway, better not push my luck too far,” she said, looking towards her house. “I had a really nice time tonight, Reggie,” she added, and Reggie felt a whoosh of _something_ in his chest. “The platinum experience really holds up.”

“Of course it does; a Mantle man always delivers,” Reggie boasted. “Be sure to spread the word with the ladies.”

Betty rolled her eyes, “I’ll alert the press.” She opened the car door, but stopped after a few inches. She turned her back to the house again, and it seemed to Reggie that she was steeling herself in preparation for something. _She’s going to ask me out on another date,_ thought Reggie, and he felt that tug of exhilaration shoot through him again.

But she didn’t.

Instead, Betty leaned forward and before Reggie knew what was happening, he felt her lips on his. It was short—really more a peck than a full-blown _kiss_ —but it he could feel the pressure of her mouth, slightly wet, as his eyes rolled back to savor the sensation.

Betty pulled away and was out on the street seconds later. "Whoa," Reggie said to the empty car, meeting his own eyes in the rear view mirror before turning to watch her golden hair, shining like a comet streaking across the night sky, as she quickly walked to the threshold of her quiet home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Apparently, I can't make it through a chapter without at least one dig at Alice Cooper (sorry Alice! You're awful, but maybe not more than any other shitty parent in this town). 
> 
> 2\. Surprise-date night at the planetarium is the dream I didn't know I had?
> 
> 3\. Reggie has some weird choices in gas station snacks. The trail mix is for protein because #sports.
> 
> 4\. Reggie is also corny AF and thinks in baseball metaphors. But I feel like that's canon with the comics, so I'm going with it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica looked unimpressed. “B, you know I love that you’re putting yourself back on the market, but I feel like you might be suffering from a serious case of lowered expectations.” Betty frowned slightly while Veronica reached forward to grab a raspberry walnut scone. “Dates are supposed to feel special, not like how you’d spend an afternoon with your kid cousin.” She took a bite. “At least tell me Reggie's a good kisser,” she joked.
> 
> Betty looked down and blushed. Veronica watched as she tried to stop a small smile from sneaking across her face.
> 
> “Wait, what!?” Veronica said, eyes wide. “He kissed you?”
> 
> “I may have, maybe, kinda… kissed him,” Betty mumbled. “It was basically nothing,” she added afterwards. Veronica’s jaw hung open.

Betty woke up to her alarm at 8:30 the next morning. She was an early riser, even on weekends—her mother’s voice reverberating in her head: _s_ _leeping in is slacking off,_ as she headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face _._ It was only as she was lathering the soap onto her cheeks that she remembered— _I kissed Reggie_ _Mantle_ _last night_.

They’d had fun together, and in that context—the memory of sitting on the bench outside the Planetarium, looking at the stars; that moment between them in the car in front of her house—Betty didn’t regret kissing him. She smiled to herself at the memory of how he’d smelled. Layered underneath the scent of typical teenage boy was something else—sweet and unexpected and decidedly _Reggie_ to her now. A hint of cantaloupe, maybe.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, unplanned except in the seconds beforehand. She had heard her own heart racing, its pulse loud in her ears. It hadn’t been nerves, exactly—there was no time to feel nervous; the moments between _deciding_ _to kiss him_ and then _kissing_ _him_ had been so brief—but it had been thrilling.

And it was liberating to have surprised even herself, Betty realized. She thought back to a call with Polly, a few days after she’d moved to Maine. _I don’t know what I’m doing_ , she’d said. _I don’t have a job or friends or_ _even know the closest store to buy toilet paper._ Betty had heard a her sigh, and her heart had ached. She’d wanted to reach out, over the phone, to hug her sister close. _But it feels good to be brave, for my kids—but also for me,_ she had added with a fierce determination that Betty had come to recognize in Polly, a hint of Aliceechoing out across the generations. _Who knew that the girl who was afraid to stay home by herself ‘til she was_ _thirteen_ _would be_ _living on her own five years later, miles away from everyone she knows_ _?_ She’d laughed then, and Betty had heard a lightness in her sister that had been absent in the weeks and months before.

Betty knew that deciding to kiss Reggie Mantle was not exactly on par with moving to a new state after discovering that your fiancé had been murdered by his father, that you were carrying his twins, that your parents were splitting up over it (among other things). _But yes,_ thought Betty. _It’_ _s_ _a little_ _like that._ She smiled again as she drew her hair into a ponytail. She wouldn’t have guessed that her night with Reggie would have ended how it did, but this—the dual shock and joy in unearthing a new piece of herself, untainted by what had come before—that was why she’d agreed to the date in the first place.

Back in her room, Betty threw on a pair of skinny jeans, a v-neck light pink t-shirt and her navy Keds. The sun was shining and it looked like it was shaping up to be a warm spring day. She walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Alice was finishing her yogurt and granola. She was dressed in work-out gear, on her way to the gym—her Saturday morning routine.

Betty opened a bag of bread and stuck two pieces into the toaster. “You missed curfew last night,” said Alice sharply, like she’d been waiting for Betty to come downstairs. Betty willed herself to not roll her eyes as she opened the refrigerator to grab the butter and jam. _By seven minutes,_ she thought, followed by an odd sense of déjà vu.

“You were out with the Mantle’s boy?” Alice added—a pointless question, since she knew the answer. “Yes,” said Betty and Alice made a small _hmm_ in the back of her throat.

The Mantles were a good family—respected and well-liked. They were model citizens: Richard was a successful small business owner and Victoria was a doctor at the hospital. They were long-time investors in the _Register_ and stood by the paper even when Hal had quit and sold his shares to begin an early retirement-slash-midlife crisis after the separation. Their son was a star athlete, captain of the football team. Alice knew that all teenage boys were trouble, but if her daughter wanted to date a Mantle? It was certainly better than dating a Jones.

“Well, don’t be late again” said Alice as she scrapped her spoon along her bowl, gathering the last bite of yogurt.

"Yes, mom,” said Betty. The toast popped and she turned away to reach for a plate.

“You know I love you very much,” said Alice, and Betty knew her mom well enough to know that there was a big caveat coming next to undercut that sentiment. “But I need you to make smart choices.”

“I know,” said Betty. “I will. I always do.”

“Usually, at least,” Alice said dryly. Betty couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that one, as she began to spread some butter across the bread. “I’m going to the gym, are you coming?” Alice asked as she watched Betty closely. “And go easy on the jam—it has so much sugar. Summer will be here before you know it.”

“No time for the gym today,” Betty said, pushing down her annoyance and keeping her voice level. “I have plans with Kevin to study for our Spanish final.” But she knew her mom wouldn’t let it drop. “We’re meeting at Brewed Awakening in a little bit,” she added, smearing on a modest scoop of jelly and taking a bite. “And it’s a nice day out—I’ll walk over instead of getting a ride with you.”

Alice looked moderately satisfied. “Okay then. Have a good day.” She stood up to rinse her bowl in the sink before placing it in the dishwasher. “I’m going to the office afterwards to finish up some editing, so I won’t be home until tonight. And make sure you remember to take your medicine this morning.” Alice kissed her forehead and walked out to grab her bag and leave.

Betty sat at the kitchen counter, finishing her toast. She had expected an interrogation this morning—it was the drill with Alice—but apparently her mother’s approval of the Mantles extended to Betty’s dating choices, too. Either that, or she was learning to lighten up. _Yeah right_ , Betty thought as she felt her phone buzz in her back pocket.

She looked down to see a text from Veronica. _< __B! how did it go last night? come over for bfast & tell me everything __> _ Betty smiled and checked the time. If she left now, she could swing by Veronica’s and still be on time to meet Kevin.

___________________________

As the elevator lights illuminated Veronica’s descent to the Pembrook lobby, it felt to her like the machine had never moved more slowly. _Come on, come on,_ she thought to herself. She watched the floors slide by: 4… 3… 2… 1. _Finally._

The elevator opened and Veronica saw Betty approaching the building’s tall glass doors. She had made it just in time. “She’s with me, Smithers!” Veronica called as she quickly walked across the quiet expanse, her heels clicking loudly against the tiled marble floors. “No need to sign her in.”

Smithers gave her a knowing look and Veronica stared him down until he glanced away. _Do not even start with me, Smithers,_ Veronica thought. _I will not be slut-shamed at_ _ten_ _in the morning by a man in a bellhop uniform._

“We start a new sign-in page each day, Miss Lodge,” he said, helpfully. “Any late night visitors get counted as the day before.” Veronica gave him a short nod just as Betty entered.

“You didn’t have to meet me downstairs!” said Betty with a small laugh, as the two girls walked back to wait for the elevator. “I know you can’t wait to hear all the dirty details from last night—of which there are none—but you’re being a little ridiculous, even by your standards.”

“It's never ridiculous to treat your best friend like royalty” said Veronica. “Plus, I didn’t get to hear what happened, and I am _dying_ to know how it went with with Varsity Blues.”

Veronica’s investment in Betty’s love life had always bordered on insatiable, so Betty hadn’t been surprised to receive a slew texts from her friend the night before. She had, of course, responded as soon as she was home and in her room, but hadn’t heard back until that morning—which was somewhat odd. Veronica must have fallen asleep early and felt badly about it, she decided. Hence the star treatment.

The elevator dinged open to reveal Cheryl Blossom. She was leaning against the art deco paneling and most of her face was covered by a pair of giant sunglasses with cherry red frames. _I_ _a_ _m never going to get used to her living here_ , Veronica thought. It had been nearly seven months since the fire at Thornhill, and while the remaining Blossom family—and estate—recovered from the aftermath, Cheryl, her mother and Nana Rose had moved into an open unit at the Pembrook.

“Haven’t had my coffee yet,” bit out Cheryl, as she walked out of the elevator. “So please, just insert the requisite pop culture-based insult here and get out of my way.” She dramatically pushed her arms wide to part aside the duo as she strutted into the lobby. Betty felt a little anxious—the last thing she wanted was for Cheryl to have heard them talking about last night, but Veronica just rolled her eyes and pulled her inside, hitting the button for the fourth floor.

___________________________

Entering her apartment, Veronica motioned for Betty to sit down on the couch as she walked to the kitchen to get the coffee and scones. “So spill already, B,” she said as she placed the platter of baked goods on the coffee table and headed back to grab mugs and plates. “The suspense is killing me.”

It felt a little weird to invite Betty over to gossip about boys and not mention this _thing_ with Archie, she realized. But this had been what they had both wanted—to keep things quiet, under the radar, as least until they knew what _this_ was. Veronica was suddenly caught off-guard by a flashing memory from the night before: sneaking Archie into her room after Hermione had passed out from too many glasses of red wine—the feel of him, beneath her on the bed, as she had tugged off his shirt and then hers...

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Veronica said, snapping her attention back to Betty. “You’re telling me that Reggie Mantle’s idea of a hot date includes food that doesn’t expire and an evening with Neil deGrasse Tyson? Are we sure this isn’t a _Freaky Friday_ situation and you didn’t accidentally go out with Dilton Doiley?”

Betty giggled and folded her legs up onto the couch. She shrugged her shoulders. “I know it sounds lame, but I kinda had fun,” she replied.

Veronica sat down and looked unimpressed. “B, you know I love that you’re putting yourself back on the market, but I feel like you might be suffering from a serious case of lowered expectations.” Betty frowned slightly while Veronica reached forward to grab a raspberry walnut scone. “Dates are supposed to feel special, not like how you’d spend an afternoon with your kid cousin.” She took a bite. “At least tell me he’s a good kisser,” she joked.

Betty looked down and blushed. Veronica watched as she tried to stop a small smile from sneaking across her face.

“Wait, _what!?_ ” Veronica said, eyes wide. “He kissed you?”

“I may have, maybe, kinda… kissed him,” Betty mumbled. “It was basically nothing,” she added afterwards. Veronica’s jaw hung open.

“B, I know you. It is never ‘ _basically nothing’_ when you decide to kiss someone.”

Betty scrunched up her face. “It’s not like that,” she said. “I’m just trying to have some fun.”

Veronica looked at her friend and paused, and Betty could feel her eyes studying her—waiting for her to fully explain herself. It was one thing to give that line to Kevin and Archie in the cafeteria at school, but now that they were alone, Betty realized that Veronica was looking for more from her: an explanation, a confession.

But Betty didn’t anything else to say. She didn’t want to have another long, drawn-out conversation about heartbreak—they had talked about it for weeks, and then Betty had stopped talking about it at all. Which is not to say that she had stopped _thinking_ about it, about Jughead—but, well. That was the whole point of going out with Reggie: to prove to herself that she could.

“Good for you, B,” Veronica said finally, when it was clear that Betty wasn’t going to offer anything else. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy. But what does this mean, exactly? Are you two like, _dating_ -dating? Are you seeing him again?”

Betty blushed once more. “We’re not like, a _thing_. But, I don’t know,” she said as she chewed on her bottom lip, thinking back to snacking on freeze-dried ice cream, sitting outside the Planetarium in the cool spring air. “I also sort of accidentally asked him out for milkshakes at Pop’s.”

“Betty Cooper, are you telling me that you kissed a boy _and_ asked him out again?” Veronica was agog. “And you said there were no dirty details. You’re a regular modern-day Sadie Hawkins, dance or no.”

“Technically, I asked him out first and then I kissed him,” Betty said. “But I didn’t like, _actually_ ask him out in a real way.”

Veronica looked at her thoughtfully. “But you wanna see him again? I mean, it kinda seems like you do.”

 _Do I want that?_ Betty let herself wonder. The Reggie from last night (as opposed to the Reggie she saw in the halls at school—loud and brash and egotistical) had been funny and kind and entertaining. She wouldn’t mind seeing _that_ Reggie again. She felt a small spiral of hope unravel in her chest.

She looked at Veronica and shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe,” she said with a smile, and Veronica clapped her hands together gleefully.

Betty looked down at her phone to check the time. If she didn’t leave soon, she would be late to meet Kevin. “I should probably head out now.” She stood up and stretched her arms over her head. “I need to study for that Spanish final. Do you wanna come? Kevin and I are holing up over coffee in town and practicing the subjunctive.”

Veronica shook her head. “Thanks but no,” she said. “No necesito estudiar Español.” She might not be fluent, but Veronica figured she should be able to pass the final just by reviewing the vocabulary words the night before. “Plus, I have some errands to run.”

Veronica always tried to never outright lie to Betty—she _did_ have a few errands that needed to get done—but that didn’t mean she had to tell the full truth. Last night, Archie had said that he might stop by again this afternoon. She was hoping that he did; Hermione would be out all day and they’d have the apartment to themselves.

“You sure? Archie’s gonna drop by, too. He said he would after he finished working on some songs,” said Betty, as she picked up her blue floral backpack and slung it over her shoulder. _O_ _h,_ thought Veronica. _So much for that._ But she didn’t want to it to seem like she was changing her mind just because of Archie. _“_ No, I’ve got a lot to do—I want to find a new bathing suit for New York this summer. But I’ll walk you out. **”**

Betty laughed. “Seriously, V. It’s not necessary, I know how to use an elevator.”

Veronica smiled and then headed for the kitchen again to find a travel mug and fill it with coffee—milk, no sugar, just the way that Smithers liked it. She hadn’t meant to be quite so hostile earlier, but had panicked at the thought of Betty seeing Archie’s signature and late-night arrival time on the Pembrook visitor log. _When the time comes,_ she thought, _I’ll tell her about_ _it_ _. But not like that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Long delays with this one -- lots of travel and weddings and also my job kinda exploded while I was out, so I'm playing catch-up all over the place. But! Here ya go. 
> 
> (And for those of you waiting for all the angsty Jughead feels, I promise they're coming soon.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Should’ve warned you—those things are addictive,” Reggie said, all confidence and charm. “Once you’ve had a taste...” He trailed off and smirked. Betty bent down to grab the Cool Ranch Doritos from the vending machine and stood up again, turning her body to face his. She rolled her eyes—but she looked amused, he thought.
> 
> “What can I say,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation. “I like them more than I expected.”
> 
>  _I can’t believe I just said that,_ Betty thought as Reggie raised an eyebrow and watched her open the bag of chips. “Even if they’re just empty calories,” she added.
> 
> Reggie snickered. “Well,” he said. “In that case, let me take you out for a decent meal. I was thinking Pop’s on Saturday.”

Moose was spouting off about the Yankees’ starting lineup,but Reggie wasn’t really listening. They were standing in the student lounge by the water fountains, and Reggie was leaning against the wall, cultivating an air of easy casualness. He was watching Betty—she was sitting on the couches with Archie and Veronica—and waiting for a chance to talk to her. With Moose standing in front of him and to the left, he was able to keep her in his line of vision without being too obvious.

Before last Friday, Reggie had only thought about Betty in passing.Sure, she was attractive in that girl-next-door way: wholesome, cute, perky. She was generous and kind, and one of the smartest people in their school. But she could also be pushy and uptight, and bit of a know-it-all too sometimes. She wasn’t exactly his type.

But since their date, Reggie had been surprised to find himself unable to think about much else. It had been nearly a full week since then, and Reggie’s mind kept returning to thoughts of that night, to _her_. Though it had been nothing like he’d expected, he’d had a good time with her. Betty was fun and easy to talk to—when was the last time he’d told anyone about his childhood dream of becoming an archaeologist? He even liked how she kept him on his toes with that _standard date night_ bullshit, especially because he knew he’d recovered nicely.

In the last few days, he often found himself replaying in his head the moment when she’d kissed him: how soft her lips had been; how she’d tasted like sweet, like honey. He wondered what it would feel like to _really_ kiss her,to cup her face in his hand, skimming his fingers along her neck and slide his tongue between her lips. It was distracting—how much he wanted to find out.

On Monday, he’d passed Betty in the halls on his way to English. She had been swapping out textbooks at her locker, and she’d turned to glance in his direction. He’d looked back and grinned, then nodded at her with a broad, confident hook of his head. Reggie particularly savored the blush that fanned out across her cheeks before he’d walked away.

On Tuesday, he hadn’t seen Betty at all. Which maybe was a typical Tuesday; Reggie had realized at the end of the day that he wasn’t entirely sure of her schedule or when their paths usually crossed. Two weeks ago he wouldn’t have thought twice about that, but now he found it strangely annoying.

Reggie had considered asking Betty out again on Wednesday morning, as he had done the week before. ( _Except this time_ , he’d thought, _I won’t be surprised when she says yes._ ) He knew she’d be heading to AP Chem—and it was first period, so she probably took the main stairs—but he’d overslept and was running late that morning. Reggie wasn’t particularly worried about getting written up as tardy; finals were starting next week and most teachers were—like the students—counting down the hours until summer break. But he knew that Betty Cooper would never be late for anything. When he arrived at school only a few minutes before classes began, Reggie figured he’d already missed his shot.

Now it was Thursday, and Reggie had a plan. He was relatively sure that if could just find a way to talk to her alone, Betty would say yes when he asked her to Pop’s on Saturday. After all, _she_ had kissed _him,_ he reminded himself _._ There was no need to get psyched out.

“I mean, they’re obviously gonna beat the Red Sox this weekend. That’s just a given,” said Moose. “Yeah,” Reggie nodded, distractedly.He noticed that Betty had stood up and was heading towards to the vending machines, a few feet from where he was standing. “One sec,” he said to Moose, now talking about his choices for pitchers. He appeared to have no idea that Reggie hadn’t paid any attention to their entire conversation.

Reggie sauntered over. Betty was studying the options, eying the granola bars. She glanced at him as he leaned against the machine, and he was pleased to see her select a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

“Should’ve warned you—those things are addictive,” he said, all confidence and charm. “Once you’ve had a taste...” He trailed off and smirked. Betty bent down for the chips and stood up again, turning her body to face his. She rolled her eyes—but she looked amused, he thought.

“What can I say,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation. “I like them more than I expected.”

 _I can’t believe I just said that,_ Betty thought as Reggie raised an eyebrow and watched her open the bag. “Even if they’re just empty calories,” she added.

Reggie snickered. “Well,” he said. “In that case, let me take you out for a decent meal. I was thinking Pop’s on Saturday.”

Betty looked down. “I can’t this weekend,” she replied. With finals next week, there was no way that her mom would let her out of the house. Plus, she was spending Saturday at her dad’s, which meant more of the same: studying, just at a different location. Even Hal—currently locked in a losing custody battlewith Alice as to the rightful owner of the 1972 New York Mets commemorative plaque that had previously hung in their basement—wasn’t foolish enough to send Betty back to her mother’s without a guarantee that she was completely prepared for Monday’s tests in Algebra II and Health.

Reggie hadn’t been expecting Betty to say no. “Date card all filled up, Cooper?” he scoffed defensively. “You don’t wanna miss out on all this,” he said, standing up a little straighter and crossing his arms. “Plenty of other girls are lining up for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Betty looked at him, the skepticismclear on her face. “I’ll be studying all weekend,” she retorted, dryly. “But heaven forbid I stand in the way of your rich and fulfilling social life.”Reggie scowled slightly, shuffling his feet.

Betty peered over at Veronica and Archie. They were clearly watching her and Reggie, but trying to pretend they weren’t. She could tell that Archie was concerned because he was doing that _thing_ that he did when he was worried—scrunched up face; furrowed brow; deep stare. Betty felt a flash of annoyance: _I don’t need a babysitter,_ she thought to herself. She knew her friends had her best interest at heart, but she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions.

“How about tonight instead?” she asked.

“Tonight?” Reggie repeated back to her, bewildered.“I have practice until 5.”

“Sounds great,” Betty replied. “I have to finish up some work for the paper anyways. Come get me at the _Blue and Gold_ office when you’re done?”

“Uh, okay,” said Reggie. He felt a little dazed—he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gone from asking her out to _this:_ feeling dumbstruck and tongue-tied. _How does she_ _always_ _manage to throw me off my game?_ he wondered as Betty smiled at him, then walked back over to her friends.

___________________________

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Archie asked. When he and the girls had first arrived together, he’d leisurely plopped down on the couch and thrown his arm around the back. But when Betty had gotten up to grab a snack and he’d seen Reggie follow after her, Archie had leaned forward too, elbows resting on his knees.

Veronica glanced over at their friend, bending down to grab her chips. “I think it’s safe to say that they’re not discussing the latest episode of ‘Game of Thrones,’” she said, laughing. Archie grimaced.

“I just don’t know about them together,” he said—almost more to himself than to her, Veronica realized. “She’s too good for him.”

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t had the same reaction at first, Veronica reasoned. But there was something in how he’d said it—his tone low and heated—that made her pause. She turned to look at Archie. His temple was knitted together with his gaze locked forward.

 _Huh,_ thought Veronica. _That’s_ _odd_ _._ But it was true that Reggie and Archie were rivals on the football field. Their relationship had become amicable since the season ended, though there was an undercurrent of friction evident beneath the surface.

And after Jughead had dumped Betty, she and Kevin and Archie had _all_ been worried about her. She’d been so sad and hollow in the weeks that followed—still herself but withdrawn, less vibrant somehow. Betty might not want to talk about it anymore, but it was clear that break-up had left her shattered. Veronica was glad to see that her friend had decided it was time to pick up the pieces.

Archie was just being protective, Veronica decided. From the beginning, he’d always told her that he only thought of Betty as a friend. And he was loyal and well-meaning—it was one of the reasons she liked him. _He_ _just_ _d_ _oesn’t_ _want Betty to get hurt again._ _N_ _one of_ _us do_ _,_ she thought _._

Still, Veronica couldn’t help but feel a pang of uneasiness. “It’s true, Archiekins. I don’t think any of us quite saw this coming,” she said carefully, mulling over the implications.

Archie frowned again. He hadn’t seen Betty and Jughead coming either—and look how _that_ turned out, he thought.

“But if Betty says this is what she wants, then as her friends, it’s our duty to be on board,” Veronica said, pointedly.

Archie considered that. “I guess so,” he said, though he still felt unsettled by it. Betty and Reggie made no _sense_ to him, but Betty was walking back towards them and he didn’t want to be overheard.

He noticed Veronica scrutinizing him, her lips slightly pursed. “You were always very smart,” he said, feeling guilty. He realized that he hadn’t been the best company lately—he wasn’t exactly sure why, but he’d been in a bad mood all week. And he hadn’t yet apologized for accidentally blowing her off last Saturday afternoon. “And very beautiful,” he added.

Veronica raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. He definitely _seemed_ to still be interested in her. “Sorry I spaced on Saturday. Can I make it up to you this weekend?” he asked, and Veronica felt both hesitant and thrilled at the prospect of another late-night visit.

But before she could respond, Betty returned. Veronica saw that Archie was still looking at her with a sly smile, yet somehow earnest and open—a look so distinctly _Archie_ that Veronica couldn’t help but swoonwhen she met his eyes. It was a familiar feeling and for a second, it was easy to think that she’d just misread the moment before.

 _Maybe I imagined it,_ she thought. Either way, it would have to wait.This wasn’t the time to assess how Archie really felt about her—not with Betty standing right next to them. Instead, Veronica turned to her friend.“So, B—what was _that_ about?” she asked conspiratorially as she stood up, readying herself for class.

“Nothing,” Betty said. “We’re just getting dinner at Pop’s tonight,” she added, picking up her backpack. “Do _not_ look at him, V,” she begged as Veronica’s face lit up and she threw a quick glance over her shoulder. Betty decided to risk a peek too, and saw that Reggie was standing again with Moose. He winked when he caught her eye. She flushed and looked down.

“Tonight?” Archie asked, incredulously, and both girls turned to him. Betty wrinkled her nose in confusion. “I just mean, it’s a Thursday. What happened to mandatory weeknight Cooper family dinners?”

“‘Cooper family dinner’ is just me and my mom these days,” said Betty crisply. “And she’s working late again. But thanks for looking out for me,” she laughed.

“Uh, yeah—of course,” he said, shrugging.“That’s what friends do,” he added, thinking about what Veronica had said. She was right, he realized. He didn’t know why this whole situation made him feel so uncomfortable. This was a good thing—he was glad that Betty was dating again and wasn’t hung up on Jughead anymore. _Plus,_ he told himself, _ther_ _e’_ _s no way she’_ _s_ _serious about Reggie._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. A weird accidental theme in this fic is that Reggie thinks a lot about the days of the week?
> 
> 2\. Shout-out to my friend who, when I texted to ask her for ideas re: material things that Alice and Hal would be fighting over, immediately responded with "a 1972 New York Mets commemorative plaque that used to hang in the basement" because "Alice wouldn't give a fuck about it, but she'd love to screw Hal out of anything he wanted." 
> 
> 3\. SPORTS CORNER: As a Red Sox fan, personally I wholeheartedly disagree with Moose, but I'm operating on the assumption that these kids live somewhere in New York state.
> 
> 4\. I know last time I said we'd get to have a Jughead POV, but this started to get long. The good news is, I'm already mostly done with the next part, and then you get *a lot* of Jug in the chapter after that. It's coming, I swear! And he is just as moody as ever -- I promise.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh come on, I dare you,” Betty teased, and Reggie watched as she raised her eyebrows in curiosity, a spark of taunting mischief dancing across her face. It was a look that he enjoyed immensely—the way her lips curved into a smile, the cheeky defiance in her eyes—and he realized that he’d like to see it again. He wanted Betty to look at him like that right before he kissed her: like it was a challenge, like she wanted him to do it. Like she wanted _him._

Typing on the ancient computer at her desk in the _Blue and Gold_ office, Betty added in the final paragraphs to her report summarizing the paper’s return to print. It wasn’t really necessary—other than herself, there wasn’t anyone else to report to. Miss Haggly, the paper’s academic advisor, seemed happy enough that Betty had managed to regularly publish a new edition every other month. And she certainly didn’t have any student reporters behind her, either.

Despite her best efforts, Betty remained both the editor and lone regular contributor, too. It was a little disappointing, and a lot of work. She’d known it would take time to assemble a full masthead of writers—but after the first full year of production, she’d hoped at least to have _expanded_ the team, not lost the only other member.

At least she’d managed to recruit Ethel to join next year.Plus, at her suggestion, Miss Haggly was offering an independent study project so that the two of them would have more time to work during school hours. It was definitely an improvement, but still the paper wouldn’t be operating at full capacity.

Betty re-read the last few sentences that she’d written and decided that the report was nearly done. She knew that it could probably use one more edit, but it was getting close to 5:00. She’d distracted herself with work for as long as possible.

All afternoon, Betty had been avoiding thinking about tonight, instead choosing to focus on her classes, studying, homework, the report. But now that the evening was approaching, it was pretty obvious that, though she’d tried to downplay it to Archie and Veronica—and to herself, she realized—she was excited to see Reggie again. And a little nervous.

Betty stood up from her chair and looked down, taking stock of her outfit. It occurred to her that she hadn’t completely thought through the ramifications of an after-school dinner date. Today she was wearing a flowing sea foam green tank top with a knitted cream cardigan, black flats and her favorite skinny jeans. It was an outfit in which she felt comfortable, and she thought she looked cute—but cute for a day at school, not a date. It wasn’t exactly sexy.

 _Since when do_ _I_ _care if Reggie Mantle think_ _s_ _I’m_ _sexy?_ Betty thought. And most of her closet consisted of cute-not-sexy options, anyways; in the end, it was probably better to just be herself. But that was the whole problem—she didn’t want to be herself anymore. At least not the version demanded by her parents—their _good_ daughter—or how her friends seemed to see her now: stained somehow by her breakup with Jughead; trapped in the past.

Betty took off her cardigan and put it in her backpack, remembering that Kevin had once described it as “grandma-chic.” _In a good way,_ he’d added after—but still, that definitely wasn’t the right vibe. Removing the sweater had revealed her shirt’s thin spaghetti straps and slightly dipped neckline. She knew that it wasn’t particularly racy, but Betty still felt a little exposed. _And_ _maybe_ _that’_ _s not_ _such a bad thin_ _g_ _,_ she considered as she headed for the bathroom to re-do her make-up.

___________________________

Walking back to the office, Betty was surprised to discover Reggie standing in the doorway. It was only a few minutes after 5:00; he must have walked straight over after showering from practice.She could see where his comb had left a line of tiny, wavy ridges, still visible in the damp hair that fell across his head.Other than that, he looked the same as he always did—jeans, sneakers, a navy t and his letterman jacket—but _of course_ he did. Reggie probably hadn’t thought twice about what _he_ was wearing tonight.

“Hey, Cooper,” Reggie said. “There you are—thought you’d gotten lost in here.” He had been looking around the quiet, cluttered room, taking in the messy desks piled high with stacks of discarded folders and forgotten papers. “This place reminds me of my parent’s attic,” he added. It was bizarre to him that spotless, tidy Betty Cooper would choose to spend her time in a place so disorganized.

Betty followed Reggie’s gaze. It was true, the office could use a good cleaning. But with only one person around to write and edit the paper, it never seemed to be a priority. Now, looking at it through his eyes, it did seem neglected; the room somehow even still smelled musty after a full year of use. That particular scent—a mix of dust and old newspapers—was intimately recognizable now to Betty. She’d come to associate it with the _Blue and Gold_.

“It could use a little TLC,” she admitted. “I think I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Seems like a crazy day at the office,” Reggie said sarcastically, swinging his keys in lazy circles around his hand. “I can understand how you’d be too busy to get around to straightening up. You think you can manage to step away for dinner?”

“The news never sleeps, but I think I can handle it, **”** Betty quipped.She reached for her coat, draped over the back of a chair, and slipped it on. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” said Reggie, smiling at her and walking confidently out the door, as Betty took one last look around the room and then flicked off the light.

___________________________

Pop’s was only a short drive away from Riverdale High, and Reggie pulled into the parking lot ten minutes later. Grabbing dinner together after school should have felt less like a date, not more—but for some reason, that only made him feel even more off kilter.

It was almost like they were two friends hanging out, the way he and Moose would sometimes swing by the Chock’lit Shoppe after practice. Except, he and Betty weren’t two friends out for a snack; for starters, they hadn’t ever really been friends at all. Despite knowing each other since Kindergarten, Reggie couldn’t remember a time before last week when they’d had a real conversation.

Reggie parked the car and briefly considered kissing Betty before they went inside—leaning over across the seat and pulling her in before she somehow knocked him off his game again. He could almost taste her lips—soft and sweet, like honey—at the thought.

And he liked the idea of catching her off guard, reclaiming the upper hand. Maybe then, Reggie reasoned, the night would begin to feel more recognizable to him. It annoyed him that Betty had tripped him up again in the student lounge earlier—their dynamic once more catapulting out of his control, leaving him flustered and scrambling to keep up.

And there it was again: that sense that tonight with Betty was somehow _different_ than his dates with all girls who’d come before. In the past, the opportunities had presented themselves to him—girls like gifts, just waiting to be unwrapped. It was easy, a sense of inevitability: the path from the beginning (flirting—at a party, in the hallways, at a game) to the end (a dark room, her mouth hot against his, her moans in his ear as he slid inside her) had always been obvious, re-traceable.

But when he thought back to his first date with Betty, or even their conversation that afternoon—well, whatever _this_ was, it definitely wasn’t that. He hadn’t even managed to kiss her last time.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, he turned to Betty as she gazed up into Pop’s—her emerald eyes reflecting back the light from the large, glass windows. Maybe he _would_ kiss her now, he decided. But Betty was out of the car and up the steps before he could make his move, so instead he opened his door and walked after her.

___________________________

Reggie held open the restaurant door for Betty as she stepped inside and headed toward a booth on the right, sitting down facing the entrance. She removed her coat and crossed her arms briefly, before letting them drop to her sides. Reggie noticed Betty’s shoulders—the way the green straps of her shirt branched out across her smooth skin—as he shrugged off his letterman jacket and tossed it halfway over the side of the booth. _Was she wearing that earlier?_ he wondered. He was pretty sure he would’ve remembered it, if she was.

A waitress approached their table, notebook in hand. “Two milkshakes,” Reggie said with a smirk. “One chocolate and one strawberry. And I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries.”

A lifetime of dinners with Alice Cooper meant that Betty knew that an average cheeseburger contained approximately 350 calories. _S_ _crew it,_ she decided. “Me too.”

Jotting down their orders, the waitress nodded and walked toward the kitchen, where Betty could see Pop Tate himself behind the counter. She felt a wave of apprehension. _I hope he doesn’t_ _come over here and_ _say anything to us_ , she thought anxiously. She was filled with an odd dissonance—a sense of familiarity turned upside-down—at the fact that she was sitting in a booth at the Chock’lit Shoppe with _Reggie_ while Pop fried up their burgers.

And remembering her last conversation with Pop, Betty’s stomach clenched. It had been a few days after Jughead had broken up with her—when he had made it clear that he was done with being _Betty Cooper’s_ _b_ _oyfriend_ and all that she had asked of him (to love her, to let her love him; it didn’t matter now, she reminded herself sharply).

Back then, the thought of eating at Pop’s without Jughead had seemed heartbreaking—but, she had reasoned, everywhere in this town reminded her of him. So when Veronica had invited her out for a girls’ dinner, Betty had said yes, preparing to fend of her friend’s concern about _what happened_ and _how she was holding up_.

When she’d gotten there, Veronica hadn’t yet arrived. Instead, Pop had walked over to take her order. _No Nighthawk tonight?_ he had asked. Such an innocuous question; Jughead’s familiar nickname falling like a slap across her face. It had caught her off-guard, though it shouldn’t have. Pop wouldn’t have known that she’d been dumped.

The pain was still raw for her then, but Betty had kept the story brief: just the basics and no tears. _I’m so sorry to hear that_ , Pop had said, his face registering from shock to sorrow in one short sentence. _You two kids really had something special._

On the surface, it was just a platitude, words of comfort from a peripheral adult in their lives. But Betty had known that he had meant it; she could _hear_ his sincerity, and for some reason—this, coming from Pop, of all people—it hadn’t felt like a kindness. It felt like she’d let him down.

Tonight, Betty wasn’t sure if Pop would come over to their table, if he’d mention it again or ask about Jughead. She cringed at the thought of navigating that conversation—especially now. _This is a date,_ _not a_ _pity party_ _,_ she told herself, turning her gaze back to Reggie.

This was what she wanted, to be out with him. She studied Reggie’s face as he glanced around the room, drumming his fingers absentmindedly along the table’s edge. He was cute; he wasn’t complicated or moody; and for some reason, he seemed to be interested in her, too. She didn’t know where exactly tonight would lead, but she didn’t have to, Betty realized—part of the fun was in finding out.

___________________________

Peering around the restaurant,Reggie could see that Pop’s was nearly empty—which made sense, he figured. It was an early evening on a random Thursday, not exactly prime business hours for a small-town burger joint.  
  
He caught Betty looking at him, lost in thought, and took the opportunity to observe her without interruption.She was really pretty—beautiful, actually, he realized; the word s _triking_ popping into his head.Leaning back in his seat, Reggie spread his arms wide across the back and grinned. “You like what you see, Coop?” he asked flirtatiously.  
  
“Has that line ever worked for you?” Betty asked, biting back a smile. “It’s terrible.” But she felt herself blush—relishing the hope that bloomed inside of her as she allowed herself to get swept away in his charm. **  
**  
And she needn’t have worried, Betty realized a few minutes later when she saw Pop wave in her direction, then go back to cooking up their burgers. She’d been back since then and he’d never mentioned it again. Other than her memories, the nights had been uneventful.

___________________________

The waitress dropped off their shakes in two tall glasses, topped with whipped cream and maraschino cherries. Reggie reached for the chocolate and took a sip. “You’re right, Cooper,” he said, enjoying the rich, satisfying taste, cool across his tongue. “These are definitely better than that freeze-dried crap.”  
  
“Obviously,” said Betty. “No rocket science necessary for that one.” She snaked a spoonful from his glass. “What?” she asked, meeting Reggie’s eyes as he mocked offense at her reach. She took a bite, turning the spoon over in her mouth to lick it clean. “Yep. Pop’s wins, hands down.”  
  
Betty plunged her straw through the whipped cream and into the strawberry milkshake, twisting off the small piece of paper that covered the top. She paused before taking a drink and instead tilted it toward Reggie, offering him the first taste. He scowled. “No, that’s okay,” he said. “You go ahead.”  
  
Betty squinted at him **.** “Reggie, are you discriminating based on milkshake color?” she asked in exasperation.  
  
“No,” said Reggie automatically, even though he would not be caught dead in public with a girlie drink. “I don’t like strawberries,” he added defensively.  
  
She looked at him in disbelief. “Seriously? I literally saw you eat strawberry-flavored astronaut ice cream last week.”  
  
That was true; he’d chosen that particular flavor because it seemed like the kind of thing she’d like, but they had both eaten it. Reggie considered the possibility that he was being a little ridiculous.  
**  
**“Oh come on, I dare you,” Betty teased, and Reggie watched as she raised her eyebrows in curiosity, a spark of taunting mischief dancing across her face. It was a look that he enjoyed immensely—the way her lips curved into a smile, the cheeky defiance in her eyes—and he realized that he’d like to see it again. He wanted Betty to look at him like that right before he kissed her: like it was a challenge, like she wanted him to do it. Like she wanted him.  
  
“Fine—give it to me,” he said, reaching across the table for the drink. Reggie took a deep swig from the rim and then put the glass down with a soft crack, smacking his lips in exaggerated satisfaction.  
  
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Betty asked, tilting her head and opening her eyes wide in mockery.  
  
“No, that was incredible,” he said, meeting her gaze. It was—Pop must use real strawberries; the flavor tasted alluring and sweet like summer, not artificial at all—though his words sounded vaguely sarcastic as they left his mouth. “I’m reformed” he added. “Real men drink pink.”  
  
“Real men don’t need to be talked into trying a milkshake,” said Betty, smiling as she rolled her eyes. “Also,” she added as she grabbed a napkin to pass to him, “you have a pink mustache now. Don’t worry though, it’s kinda working for me.”  
  
Reggie's cheeks reddened as he wiped his lips.

___________________________

“Well,” Betty said, after their burgers had arrived and they’d dug in to the meal. If there was one thing that her mom had ingrained into her, it was how to make small talk. “How was baseball practice?” She thought for a second. “Wait, do you even have any more games this year?”

“No,” Reggie responded. “But it’s like Coach always says, ‘don’t practice until you get it right—practice until you can’t get it wrong.” He saw a look of confusion pass over Betty’s face. “It’s a sports thing,” he explained.

“I knew what you meant,” she replied, laughing. “I’m just not sure that I understand why you’d bother.”Though Betty was still on the River Vixens—and she enjoyed it, even if it was an _adolescent waste of_ _her_ _time_ _and talents_ , according to Alice—she wasn’t passionate about cheerleading. When Cheryl had ended their practices a few weeks ago after the major games had ended, Betty had been relieved to get back the hours for homework and the paper.

Reggie wasn’t sure how respond with an honest answer, though he realized that he wanted Betty to understand. He’d never tried to explain it before and he didn’t know if he could without sounding clichéd and corny **.**

Since he was a kid, Reggie had always participated in sports: football, soccer, basketball, lacrosse, swimming, track, baseball, hockey. Sure, he liked when they played official games; the competition, the victory—the rush that came from winning. He especially liked that he knew he was good, often the best. Reggie had been placed on all varsity teams, even as a freshman, and made captain of the football team his sophomore year—though technically he’d only been chosen because Archie had first turned it down, a fact which drove him a little crazy when he dwelt on it too much.

But Reggie also thrived on the physical challenge, the knowledge that he had the drive and dedication to push through the pain and onto the other side, stronger and faster than before. And he valued being on a team, too. A sense of unity, a shared purpose—he found that camaraderie to be both rewarding and motivating.

“I don’t mind practicing,” he said eventually. “There’s something satisfying about it,” he added with a tinge of embarrassment but choosing to continue. “I know it sounds dumb, but I like playing on a team. Feels like we’re building something.”

Betty studied him, considering his words. She’d never asked herself why Reggie played sports, but if she had, she would have guessed that it was for the cache and status—his letterman jacket a reward unto itself.

“That doesn’t sound dumb to me,” she said softly. Maybe she didn’t feel that way about baseball or football, but that was pretty close to why she’d stuck with the _Blue and Gold. “_ I guess that’s why I spend my time after school in that abandoned office.”

“Yeah, but that’s just you,” Reggie said, and then immediately regretted it. Before the paper was staffed by Betty on her own, it had been Betty and Jughead.That realization made him squirm a little.

But he was relieved to see that, if Betty had the same thought, she didn’t miss a beat. “For now,” she said with a laugh. “But next year it will be just me _and Ethel._ ”

“With recruitment rates like that, you’ll finally have a full staff by the time we graduate,” Reggie teased. But it wasn’t so different than with football, he thought. As captain, it was his role to shepherd the team’s legacy. This year’s players, their victories—they would all be a part of a history that was bigger than themselves.

“An editor can dream,” Betty sighed, jokingly wistful—though at this point, it would be a huge success if she could add another writer every year.

It was nice to find someone she could share this with, she realized. Though Jughead had written for the paper before he’d transferred, she’d had to talk him into it. And it soon became pretty clear that he’d agreed to do it because she’d asked, not because he objectively cared about the _Blue and Gold_ _._ Reggie probably didn’t care too much about the paper either, but he at least cared about _something_.

___________________________

Their waitress stopped by again to clear away their plates and drop off the bill, leaving behind theirmilkshake glasses, nearly empty now. Reggie took a final sip through his straw, draining the melted chocolate remains with a slurp.

It was still relatively early, though they’d been at Pop’s for over two hours, he realized as he checked his watch. It was nearing 8:00. He wondered if Betty had a weeknight curfew.

“I guess I should get you home,” he said, reaching for his wallet and placing a crisp twenty into the check folder. “I got it,” he said as Betty started to protest. “I owe you a real meal after last time.”

“Those gas station hot dogs were practically gourmet,” she joked. “Plus, you reintroduced me to Doritos.” She took out her purse from her backpack and handed him twenty dollars. “Really, though—I should pay, I asked you out.”

By this point, Reggie had given up on trying to catalog the ways in which tonight felt distinctly different than all the other dates he’d gone on—but this, he was certain, had never happened to him before. He felt oddly flattered. “Uh, okay—thanks,” he said, placing her money in his wallet and shoving it back into his pocket.

___________________________

Alone at their booth, Betty took our her phone and checked her texts. After she had insisted on paying for dinner, Reggie had grabbed the bill to drop it at the register and then continued on down the hall to the bathroom in the back.

She had a few messages from Kevin, starting with one from an hour ago. _< __having fun tonight with loverboy_ _? >_ he’d asked, followed by another, twenty minutes later, which read _< hello??? __how_ _s_ _the date_ _>_ and finally one more, just minutes ago—a gif of Tom Hiddleston’s Loki, yelling “tell me!” on repeat. Betty smiled to herself as she typed back a quick response: _< __LOL,_ _its good._ _i’ll call u_ _soon_ _ > _She’d try him tonight when she got home, she decided.

Out of nowhere, Betty suddenly had the feeling that she was being watched. She looked around but the restaurant was still deserted, save for Pop behind the counter and the few patrons sprinkled throughout the booths and tables.

Now she could see that Reggie was on his way back from the bathroom, striding toward her with an affectionate grin. She turned to smile at him, but _something_ caught her eye—drawing her attention over to the restaurant door. Standing in the small entrance area, she recognized a sullen and familiar face: dark eyes and a tuft of black hair, curling out from underneath a gray beanie crown. Surprised, she sucked in a small breath. _Fuck,_ she thought to herself.

His response was nearly instantaneous. Turning, he was out the door before Betty could decide how to react—and for a moment, it was almost as though she’d imagined him. But she knew she hadn’t; she heard the door bang shut, the bell jingling as it closed. And peering out the window, she could see a lone figure walking through the parking lot, crossing out of the light spilling from the restaurant windows and into the shadows. Hands shoved in pockets, head down, collar up—it almost could have been anyone.

Except of course, it wasn’t. It was Jughead. She would have recognized that jacket anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Y'all. Riverdale is back! (Also, it's my birthday this week! What a world!) I have so many thoughts and feelings on the first ep of s2, let's talk about it forever in the comments?
> 
> 2\. That being said, things are about to get pretttty canon-divergent 'round these parts (I mean, more than they already are). I'll obviously be watching the new season and tying in what I can, but I have a relatively clear outline in my head of where we're going with this and I'm gonna try to stick to that, more or less. 
> 
> 3\. This chapter somehow ended up kinda long, and I don't know why because *all I wanted* was write the last three paragraphs. (Confession: That moment between Betty and Jug is what drove me to decide to write this fic -- it popped into my head and then wouldn't leave, so I had to build an entire, year-long story around it?)
> 
> 4\. One more time: RIVERDALE IS BACK.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road’s lone streetlight flickered on and off, sporadically casting blocky shadows along the sidewalk in front of him, littered with discarded cigarette butts and trash. Jughead stopped abruptly and closed his eyes, pressing his fingertips along his temple. In the end, it didn’t matter, he reminded himself. He and Betty weren’t together anymore and that was for the best. He took a deep breath through his nose, blowing it out sharply as he opened his eyes and looked around. 
> 
> The streetlight blinked one final time before sputtering off for good, and Jughead let out a low, joyless laugh. _I get it, universe,_ he thought. _I can take the fucking hint._ Turning onto a small side street, he headed off towards the Whyte Wyrm.

Jughead walked for two blocks before it occurred to him that he’d left his motorcycle in the parking lot at Pop’s. He definitely couldn’t go back for it now. There was no way he would show his face there again tonight, not after stumbling on his ex-girlfriend out on what was clearly a _date._ With Reggie Mantle, of all fucking people. He’d rather risk a stolen bike than endure that again.

 _You’_ _re_ _a_ _n_ _idiot_ , he told himself as he continued down Riverdale’s darkened Main Street. Clearly, it had been a colossally bad idea to go into the restaurant after he’d spotted Betty. For the last three months, Jughead had managed to almost avoid her completely. He’d only seen her twice since the break up, and both timeshad been from afar: the first, sometime in March, when he’d been driving and seen her near town hall; the second, a few weeks ago, when he’d spied her walking through Pickens Park. In each case, he’d been relatively sure that Betty hadn’t seen him and had allowed himself a few extra seconds to linger before leaving, undiscovered.

But tonight—seeing her in the window at Pop’s—he’d been overwhelmed by a rush of starved nostalgia. It had almost seemed like old times, and just for a brief moment Jughead had let himself believe that she was waiting for him—that somehow, they were still together. Awash in the glow of yellow light, Betty looked beautiful ( _but_ _she always did_ , he’d thought to himself). More importantly, she’d looked hopeful, expectant. Happy.

And when Betty had scanned the room and then turned towards the register, Jughead recognized the look that followed: open and unguarded. So unlike how she’d looked at him in the end. And something else, too—that particular buoyant, eager face. He knew that face. It was at onceexcruciatingly recognizable: it reminded Jughead innately of _before,_ back when Betty thought of him as just a friend (if she’d thought of him at all). He’d been practically invisible to her for all those years, just as he felt then, standing unnoticed in the threshold of the restaurant.

In that moment, Jughead had been convinced that it must be Archie for whom Betty was waiting; Archie who would next appear to join her at the booth. The last time they’d spoken—sometime back in January, before he'd successfully severed all remaining ties with his old life—Archie had still been avoiding Pop’s; too many bad memories after Fred’s shooting. But clearly, that had changed. _Just like everything else,_ he thought bitterly as he continued walking down the quiet street.

And, as proof—there, draped over the side of the booth, he had seen the blue and yellow of a Riverdale High letterman jacket. It made a certain kind of devastating, inevitable logic—the girl next door, the all-American boy. Jughead wasn’t blind and he wasn’t stupid. It had only been a matter of time until Archie came to his senses, took one look at Betty and realized that he’d completely messed up—that she was the best thing he’d ever walked away from.

And of _course_ deep down, Betty still wanted Archie—a persistent, insecure part of Jughead had never been able to believe anything else. How could she not? Archie was everything he would never be: reliable, undamaged. Worthy. He’d flung that accusation at Betty in the end, during their last conversation on that cold, miserable Saturday morning in FP’s trailer. And even though she’d denied it vehemently (he could still remember the shock on her face, streaked with tears, when he’d spat it out; one final, vicious, petty blow)—well, here she was. Clearly, undeniably, on a date with Archie.

Except, it hadn’t been Archie at all. Instead, Reggie Mantle— _Reggie_ _fucking_ _Mantle_ , a meat-headed, arrogant, asshole jock who _definitely_ couldn’t spell necrophilia (or anything else, for that matter)—was strolling through Pop’s, heading right for her. Jughead had seen Reggie toss off one of his stupid, self-satisfied grins—and then, worst of all—witnessed Betty’s face light up in return.

In retrospect, Jughead knew he should have left then; or better yet, he shouldn’t have been there in the first place. But he’d stayed a second longer, stuck between disbelief and horror at the scene unfolding in front of him. And, well. Of course his luck had run out then. When he needed it most, it always did.

Tonight’s revelation was somehow even worse than if Betty _had_ been out with Archie, Jughead realized. He’d told himself for so long that the two of them were inevitable, endgame—the storybook ending that she deserved. But Reggie Mantle wasn’t any of those things. Reggie was just some _guy_ , a teenage stereotype living out his high school glory days.

Jughead stopped abruptly and closed his eyes, pressing his fingertips along his temple. In the end, it didn’t matter, he reminded himself. He and Betty weren’t together anymore and that was for the best. He took a deep breath through his nose, blowing it out sharply as he opened his eyes and looked around.

The road’s lone streetlight flickered on and off, sporadically casting blocky shadows along the sidewalk in front of him, littered with discarded cigarettes butts and trash. He’d been walking without any set destination and was now on the south side of town. The houses were older, smaller, more decrepit, and the storefronts had transitioned from the stuff of small-town Americana—the quaint pharmacy, the candy shop—into liquor stores, pawn shops, fast food chains. Even before he’d transferred schools, this had always been where he belonged.

The streetlight blinked one final time before sputtering off for good, and Jughead let out a low, joyless laugh. _I g_ _e_ _t it_ _,_ _universe,_ he thought. _I can take the fucking hint._

Turning onto a small side street, Jughead began walking to the Whyte Wyrm. The promise of cheap booze didn’t usually appeal to him—growing up with two alcoholic parents had mostly killed the allure—but now, a strong drink felt magnetic; the best way to block out the evening’s events.

Plus, it wasn’t like he could turn in for the night. Jughead had learned that the key to surviving the foster system was to make himself as scarce as possible. Rule one was never show up unannounced, and he’d told Lisette and Gina that he’d be gone for dinner, planning to grab a burger at Pop’s after his shift at the library. He’d have to kill a few hours, at least.

The bar was only a few blocks away, anyways. He hadn’t been in much since Lisette had recommended him for the library gig, but he was usually welcome as long the Serpents weren’t talking official business. Being FP’s son bought him a certain amount of leeway—but despite his former friends’ naive concerns, Jughead hadn’t _joined a gang_. He wasn’t exactly the joining type. (He did sometimes wear the jacket though, a reminder of his dad—the only parent who had, in his own misguided way, at least tried to do right by him.)

Plus, to be a Serpent required a certain set of physical skills, and up until last year Jughead had still been bullied and stuffed into lockers with relative frequency. _U_ _sually_ _by Reggie Mantle,_ he thought with a fresh flash of resentment, scowling into the night and stomping off.

___________________________

It was unclear to Reggie where exactly he’d gone wrong tonight with Betty, but it was evident that something was off. She’d been quiet and withdrawn ever since he’d come back from the bathroom. And when they’d walked to his car together so he could take her home, she’d even seemed a little skittish.

He’d asked her questions on the drive—what she was doing this summer; what she was most looking forward to—but Betty’s answers had been brief. He’d managed to learn that she was finishing her internship at the Mayor’s office, and that Polly and the twins were coming to visit in July. Despite the mood, Reggie was relieved to hear that she’d be in Riverdale. He had a vague memory that she’d been gone last year on some program or internship in the city, and was glad that they’d have more time together. _If_ _she’s still interested_ , he thought in confusion. Based on the last thirty minutes, it seemed like maybe not.

Reggie turned onto Elm Street, then steered into a parking spot near Betty’s house and cut the engine. “So, Cooper,” he said, slightly unsure of how to continue.“I think I know why you’ve been so quiet.”

Betty winced, almost imperceptibly. She’d been nearly positive that Reggie hadn’t seen Jughead, but maybe he had. Out of everything that had gone wrong tonight, somehow, this conversation was by far the mostmortifying.She couldn’t even pull off a rebound-date with Reggie Mantle. It was pathetic.

It felt to Betty as if she were drowning, swept away again in a sea of familiar heartbreak. She hadn’t seen Jughead since he’d dumped her. Tonight, his unexpected arrival at Pop’s had been jarring; her reaction to his presence still almost visceral. They’d known each other for so long: first friends, then lovers—and now, nothing. He couldn’t even stand be around her. It was just like their last day together, when he’d looked everywhere else except at her—his hands; the wall; the floor—when he told her it was over.

Reggie’s eyes darted to the house next door to hers. He’d racked his brains on the ride home and hadn’t been able to figure out what he’d done to ruin the mood—but now, with Archie’s house right in front of them, it had dawned on him that the answer was obvious. Her best friend’s dad had been shot at Pop’s earlier that year; still no arrests, Sheriff Keller eventually declaring the incident a robbery gone wrong. She must’ve gotten spooked.

Betty glanced up at Archie’s house. She could see the outline of a person sitting in the living room, illuminated by the glow of the TV. _Oh_ _right_ _,_ she thought, and then felt even worse—flooded with solace ( _maybe_ _Reggie_ _really_ _hadn’t_ _spotted_ _Jughead after all_ ), followed by a wave of self-loathing. Until now, she hadn’t thought once tonight about Fred or Archie.

“Yeah,” said Reggie, deciding suddenly not to mention the shooting. He’d noticed how Betty had tensed up—she must not want to talk about it, he figured. He shot her an easy, teasing grin. “You’re embarrassed. I think we can all agree that the Betty Cooper Date Night Experience is sub-par.”

A look of surprise passed over Betty’s face, and then she rolled her eyes and smiled—tentative but bright. It made Reggie’s stomach flip, to have her look at him like that again.

“I don’t think that’s entirely fair,” she said, chewing on her lip in consideration. “I picked the night, but you chose the activity. For a real comparison, I’d need to plan the whole thing.”

“Well,” replied Reggie, pleased with himself at having finally found a way to bring the conversation back to playful flirtation. “Until that happens, it looks like I’m the undefeated champion.”

“I guess so,” laughed Betty. This was classic, cocky Reggie, but it also felt like a lifeline—a way out of darkness that had started to swell around her. “Watch out though, Icarus, those wings are gonna melt.” She grabbed her backpack and then turned back to him. “I’ll be in touch for a rematch,” she added, opening the door and exiting the car.

Reggie watched her leave, then frowned to himself. With finals next week, he didn’t know if he’d see her again before school let out for the summer. He opened his door and followed after her. “Hey Cooper,” he said, calling from the sidewalk before she reached the front steps. “I think your brilliant plan has a flaw in it. Don’t you wanna ask for my number?”

Betty paused and turned around, walking back towards him. They were standing close together now—so close that Reggie realized could easily lean in to kiss her, if he’d tried. Betty took out her phone, scrolling through her contacts before selecting one and dialing.

Reggie felt a buzzing in his pocket. He pulled out his cell to find an unfamiliar number on his screen.

“No need,” Betty stated as she raised her eyebrows and smiled sweetly. “That’s me, by the way.”

“How’d you get my number?” Reggie marveled. He wondered who she’d asked for it. _Maybe Midge? Or_ _Archie?_ Reggie found that he enjoyed that image immensely—Betty Cooper, talking to Archie Andrews about _him_.

“Freshman year, we did that group English project on Transcendentalism with Cricket O’Dell and Tomoko Yoshida,” Betty answered. “You’re still in my phone from that.”

“Oh, right, _Walden_ and shit,” said Reggie, looking down at his shoes. He’d completely forgotten about that project, and definitely hadn’t bothered to save her number at the time. Reggie had been tasked with writing the introduction and he’d put it off until the last minute, then thrown together a few sloppy pages that had needed to be heavily edited. _By Betty_ , he remembered, feeling sheepish. In the end, they’d received an A, though it was clear to everyone involved that the grade belonged primarily to her. Back then, he’d found her exacting academic standards to be annoying and a waste of time. Now, he felt embarrassed at himself.

“Just so you know,” said Betty, putting away her phone as she glanced back at her house. “I probably won’t be able to go out again until after school is over.”

“Studying for finals isn’t included as part of the full Betty Cooper Date Night Experience?” Reggie joked. “I’m shocked.”

“This, coming from the guy who chose the science museum for a first date,” Betty teased, leaning forward slightly. “Not exactly a high bar.” She was standing even closer now—only a few inches away—and Reggie watched as she tucked a loose hair that had escaped her ponytail back behind her ear. She was looking up at him, and he could feel his heartbeat quicken. Reggie thought again of kissing her—he wanted to, badly—but he didn’t. Somehow, tonight, it didn’t feel right.

He took a step small step back, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I guess we’ll see about that,” he grinned, and started walking back across the street.

Betty watched Reggie leave, feeling both disappointed and relieved that he hadn’t kissed her. She walked up the steps to her house, stepping inside and turning when she heard his voice.

“Night, Coop,” Reggie called when he reached his car, and Betty waved before shutting the door against the cool night air.

___________________________

After knocking down three whiskeys in quick succession, followed by one more that he was still nursing, Jughead was undeniably drunk.

Sitting at the bar, he looked around the dimly lit room, hazy with stale cigarette smoke. Jughead recognized a handful of people; Tall Boy was nearby, arguing loudly with Dino as they played another round of pool. Beyond them, he could see Toni, Fangs and Sweet Pea sprawled on a set of ratty couches.

Toni caught his eye and Jughead turned around again, resolute in ignoring her. He wasn’t here to socialize and he didn’t want her sympathy—he’d already told her to fuck off when she asked, for the fifth time, what was wrong with him, before she finally gave up to join her friends in the back.

Jughead tossed back the rest of his glass, slamming it down with a satisfyingly loud crack. “I’ll have another,” he said to Flanagan, behind the bar.

“Haven’t seen you around for awhile.” Flanagan said. “You alright, kid?”

Jughead glared. “I’m fine,” he slurred.

Flanagan watched him for a few seconds, then poured another glass.

___________________________

Jughead rested his head on his arms, folded across the counter.

He was halfway though his next whiskey, and starting to deeply regret everything about how the night had unfolded. Showing up at Pop’s had obviously been a mistake. Getting drunk was proving to be another.

He shut his eyes. The alcohol was making him soft;it was becoming harder to ignore the incessant thoughts tumbling through his mind. He couldn’t prevent those finalprecious, painfulmemories ofBetty from surfacing: the last time he’d climbed through her window, the last time he’d kissed her lips, the last time he’d heard her gasp in his ear as she came undone, beneath him.

It had been a cold Tuesday night in January. Jughead had known that Mrs. Higgins had meant business when she’d insisted that they eat dinner together and then sat him down on her plastic-covered, floral couch, nervously twisting her hands in the knitted afghan. _I’m sorry,_ she said.  _I thought I could do this, but I can’t._ She’d kept talking—something about how she’d decided to become a foster parent after her husband had died, but it just wasn’t working out the way she’d hoped—but it didn’t matter. All Jughead heard what that he was about to be homeless again.

 _Your_ _caseworker_ _will_ _pick you up at_ _end of the week,_ Mrs. Higgins added, and something inside of him had snapped. _Don’t worry about it_ , he’d spat out before rushing to his room, where he’d thrown his computer and some random clothes into his backpack, stopping to grab the unframed picture of him and Jellybean that balanced against a lamp on his nightstand, and then fled out the door.

It was brutally cold outside, the ruthless, raw night air cutting through his clothes. There was only one place—one person—that Jughead could think to go to. He’d driven his bike to Betty’s house and then knocked on her window and climbed through, desperate for her. She was wearing her pajamas, her face freshly-washed and bare. She still looked stunning. _Jug,_ she said, surprise turning to concern when she’d seen his face. _What’s wrong?_

He didn’t—couldn’t—answer, and instead kissed her deeply, sliding out of his jacket as he walked her back to the bed. He thought now of how she’d gasped into his mouth, then run her hands through his hair and pulled off his hat; lifted up his shirt as they’d tumbled backwards. The way she wriggled out of her pajamas, opening her legs to him and pulled him deep inside. How he’d caressed her breasts and planted harsh and urgent kisses down her neck—trying fervently to hold on to her, to who she thought he was.

Afterwards, Betty drifted off to sleep in his arms, and only then had Jughead found the courage to whisper into the darkness the answer to her question: _Everything_ _._ He felt as though he was being swallowed alive by his own tragic existence, his worthless life. He’d thought then of his mother—how she’d apologized and cried, but still left him behind—and of his sister, who someday soon would barely even remember him.

He’d fallen asleep for a few hours and then woke with the sun, its frail winter rays creeping in through the windows. Jughead had spent the night in Betty’s bed before, but never like this—never because he had nowhere else to go. He’d survived his whole life on his sarcasm and self-reliance, and he wasn’t supposed to _need_ her like this—to need _anyone_ so completely. Jughead was shaking, cold and scared, as he slipped down the ladder and out onto the street before she could wake up.

In the days that followed, he’d skipped school and camped out in the trailer. It was wretched, lonely and freezing—the water still worked, but the electric hook-up had been off for months. He lived off untoasted Poptarts, stale cereal and old canned foods. On Saturday, Betty had stormed in, distraught and furious that he hadn’t answered any of her calls or texts. She demanded an explanation, but he’d told her nothing and broken up with her instead—saying everyterrible thing he could think of, everything he knew she’d never forgive.

Jughead had thought about leaving town after that, but he didn’t have enough money for a bus ticket—and even if he borrowed it from the Serpents, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Three days later, his social worker finally tracked him down and dropped him off at his new foster home with a dufflebag from Mrs. Higgins, filled with books and clothes and all the things he’d left behind that night.  
  
As if any of that mattered. The only one he would truly miss—Betty—was gone to him forever.

___________________________

It was closing time at the Whyte Wyrm, which meant that it was sometime after 2:00 am.

Jughead paid his tab and made a shaky pathway out the door into the cool night air, before coming to a lurching stop. Leaning against the brick wall, he closed his eyes. He was exhausted, very drunk, and out of options.

Sunnyside Trailer Park was a fifteen minute walk to the east; his foster place about the same distance in the opposite direction. He felt a tug of panic at the thought of going back to Gina and Lisette’s; he’d never shown up drunk before. Jughead wondered if they were still awake—and if they were, how angry they’d be; if they’d lock him out for the night or just kick him out for good.  
  
But the thought of spending another night alone at FP’s old trailer felt unbearable. Now, more than his father, it made him think of Betty: of course, their breakup and those tortured, freezing days alone. But layered beneath that was something sweeter and more raw, how she used to come over after school and insist that they finish their homework—looking over his shoulder to check his answers; their first time together—how he’d been so nervous, so floored that she wanted him like he wanted her.

Jughead hadn’t been back since that last week and he had no desire to return there now. He’d rather take his chances with Lisette and Gina, Jughead decided, squaring his shoulders and stumbling towards their house.

___________________________

Like most of the residences on the South Side, their place was small and had seen better days, but the flower beds and fresh coat of paint made it clear that the owners were, at least, trying to make it feel like a home. Jughead careened towards the front door and grasped ineptly for the doorknob, struggling to bring his key into the lock.

Finally, he managed to twist it in with a triumphant click and pushed inside, entering the living room. Gina—short and muscular, with cropped, wiry hair and a nose ring—was sitting on an old, burnt orange recliner and watching Rachel Maddow.

“Jug!” she blurted out, her face a mix of relief and frustration, as she switched off the TV and walked to him. “Do you know what time it is? We were worried about you.”

Jughead grunted. “I’m fine.”

“Jesus,” said Gina, noticing how he swayed and steadied himself against the wall. “You’re drunk.”

He could hear the disappointment in her voice and it made him inexplicably furious. “Yeah, well,” he snarled as he crossed his arms, his leather jacket wrapping tight around him. “You’re not my dad.” Jughead was aware that he sounded ridiculous—an after-school special cliché—but he also didn’t care.

Gina barked out a short laugh. “I know that,” she said. “For starters, I’m butch, but I’m not _that_ butch.” She searched his face, studying him closely. “Did something happen tonight?”

Jughead ignored her, refusing to meet her eyes. A small, weak part of him wanted to unburden himself and tell her everything—about Betty, about their break-up, about tonight—but he didn’t.

Gina watched him. “Okay,” she muttered under her breath, and Jughead expected her start yelling and insist that he leave. But instead, she motioned for him to turn around. Reaching for his sleeves, she helped him out of his jacket and hung it on its hook next to the door.

Jughead watched her and blinked, slowly. He suddenly felt exhausted and sat down on the stairs with a loud thump, struggling to take off his shoes. He couldn’t seem to get the left one untied, eventually pulling it off with a hefty tug and then unexpectedly falling backwards from the momentum. Gina reached out her hand to help him up, and Jughead felt the room spin around him as he got back onto his feet.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” said Gina, looking straight at him. “But if you do, we’re always here.” Since moving in with them, Jughead often was quiet and uncommunicative, but this was different. She wouldn’t try to pry it out of him, though; from her own experience in the foster system, Gina knew that level of trust took time to build. “Let’s just get you to bed for now,” she sighed. “But try to be quiet, I don’t want wake up Lisette.”

“Too late for that,” called a voice from the top of the stairs. Jughead jerked his head up to see Lisette’s tall, thin frame gazing down at the two of them. She was wearing her bathrobe, and her curly hair was wrapped up for the night in a silky turquoise scarf.

“Looks like you had quite the night. I’ll get you a glass of water,” she said curtly, as she passed them on the stairs and walked into the kitchen. “And a bowl to keep by your bed in case you get sick.”

Jughead wobbled down the hall and into his room, a converted study of Lisette’s that previously housed her art supplies. It was sparse: a few piles of clothes and books, no posters—just that worn picture of him and Jellybean tacked to the wall. He flopped onto his bed still in his clothes, too tired and nauseous to do anything about it. If he concentrated, he could hear Lisette and Gina arguing in the kitchen, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying over the ringing in his ears. Like Mrs. Higgins, like his mother, like Betty ultimately would have—they were probably going to give up on him, too.

Lisette entered his room a few minutes later, carrying a large green plastic bowl and a glass of water. “Here,” she said as he tried to sit up. “Trust me, you should drink this before you pass out.”

Jughead gulped the water down and then fell back onto his pillows, shutting his eyes.

“You don’t have to tell us what happened,” Lisette said, echoing Gina’s words from earlier. “And since this is the first time, we’re not going to ground you. But if you pull this shit again, there will be consequences. And to be clear, you _are_ going to school tomorrow—no matter how awful you feel when you wake up.” She tentatively plucked off his hat, smoothing his hair across his forehead and then pulling the covers up around him. Her touch felt cool and calming, and Jughead couldn’t remember the last time someone had tucked him into bed. “Given your current state, I think that’s punishment enough.”

She stood up and turned off the light, throwing the room into a merciful darkness as she shut the door, and Jughead fell into a restive, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Poor ol' Jug. And look! A twist in everybody's favorite, #JacketAngst. (Maybe more like #JacketConfusion) 
> 
> 2\. For the Friends fans in the audience: I briefly considered naming Jughead's foster moms Susan and Carol, but didn't. 
> 
> 3\. While we are on the names of parents, did you know that in the comics, Reggie's parents are actually named Ricky and Vicky, and not -- as I randomly decided -- Gregory and June? I am certain that at least one of you did, in fact, know this. (Cough cough, writing_as_tracey, cough.) I'm gonna go change that now, because even if the rest of this story is spinning wildly in its own universe, the least we can do is keep Reggie's family more or less the same. RIP Gregory and June, we hardly knew ye; welcome to the fold, Richard and Victoria. 
> 
> 4\. I have a confession and it is this: I thought I would love writing angsty Jug, and I ended up hating it -- plus, this week's episode threw me into an existential fic crisis re: Serpent drama. However, I had a goddamn blast writing the end of Betty and Reggie's date, so... I think I might just be officially Team Beggie now?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, B—I’d say, if you’re trying to impress him, go all out,” suggested Veronica. “Woo him with roses, fancy French cuisine and dancing. Lean into it and embrace the high romance, you know?”
> 
> “I think that’s your dream date, not Reggie’s,” teased Kevin, and Archie grimaced. “I’m pretty sure Reggie just wants to make out and maybe watch sports.”
> 
> “Yes, but I’d also like to have a good time,” Betty retorted.
> 
> “So skip the sports,” suggested Veronica. “Because clearly, you do want to make out with him.”
> 
> Betty could feel her face heating up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
> 
> “Oh pul-lease,” Kevin laughed. “Like you’re interested in Reggie for the scintillating conversation.”

It was only mid-June but it was already hot and humid, with a slight breeze barely breaking up the still night air. On the TV, the Barden Bellas shimmied around the stage, lights flashing, while belting out their final mash-up performance.

“Don’t you, forget about me—don’t don’t don’t don’t you, forget about me,” sang Veronica. Betty nestled further into the plush couch in Archie’s living room, watching her as Kevin clapped along. Even Archie was humming softly, clearly enjoying himself despite his earlier protests at Veronica’s movie choice.

“What?” Veronica asked, turning to Betty. “You know I love this part.”

Betty shook her head and shrugged, smiling as Veronica started singing again to the ending notes. Between the pressure of studying for finals (she had, predictably, aced them all) and her full-time summer internship at Mayor McCoy’s office, it felt like a rare treat to spend a relaxing evening in with friends, but it was hard to not feel a little melancholy, too. This was their last night together before Veronica and her mom left for New York, where they’d be staying with her dad until school picked up again in August. She knew that Veronica was looking forward to it, but to Betty, the thought of a summer in Riverdale without her best friend seemed as though it would stretch out forever. It was hard to believe that a year ago, they hadn’t even met yet. Then again, a lot of things in their friend-group had changed in the last twelve months.

“Technically, you love this entire movie,” Kevin chimed in, sitting up slightly in Fred’s old plaid recliner. “And I’m not exactly complaining— _Pitch Perfect_ is a modern classic—but must I remind you that this _is_ your final night before you ditch us for the entire summer? Are you sure you don’t want to do anything besides sit in Archie’s living room? Maybe something a little more… exciting?”

“Sweet, sweet Kevin,” smiled Veronica. “As tempting as Riverdale’s nightlife may be, I think I’ll get my fill in New York. Besides, the one thing I _can’t_ get in the city is a life-sustaining night in with my besties.”

Kevin sighed dramatically. “You’re so lucky. I’d do anything to get to get out of this backwater town and spend a summer in the city.”

“You can always take the train down and visit me,” Veronica offered. “Mi Penthouse es tu Penthouse, and it would _truly_ be an honor to host Kevin Keller when he finally makes his long-awaited New York debut.”

“Ugh, I wish,” said Kevin. “Instead I’m trapped working at the town pool, destined to spend my days selling overpriced sodas and candy bars to overheating denizens of Riverdale.” He tilted his head. “But, as summer jobs go, I guess mine has one major perk.”

“Hot guys in bathing suits?” posed Veronica.

“Hot guys in bathing suits,” Kevin agreed enthusiastically. “Especially the hot _lifeguards_.” Betty blushed and examined a nearby couch cushion with newfound interest.

“Speaking of which…” He turned to her and raised his eyebrows. “To answer your unasked question: Yes, Reggie does look _especially_ jacked in his lifeguard swim trunks. It’s sort of unreal. You should come see.”

Betty laughed softly, avoiding eye contact. Her date with Reggie at Pop’s had been over two weeks ago, and she hadn’t really seen or spoken to him since. She told herself that she’d been busy—and she had been, with finals and her job—but if she was honest, she knew she was also avoiding him. That night had left her unnerved, and while she knew that was largely due to Jughead’s unannounced appearance, Betty felt confused and embarrassed at how she’d reacted.

“Seriously though, what’s going on with you guys?” asked Kevin. “When I asked him about you—”

“When you _what?!_ ” squealed Betty.

“I’m sorry—but as it turns out, sitting in a small, un-air conditioned snack shack all day is _extremely_ boring and I was in desperate need of entertainment,” explained Kevin, sounding not at all apologetic. Betty looked mortified. “As I was saying, when I asked him about you, he was uncharacteristically tight-lipped.” It was actually kind of cute, he thought. Reggie wasn’t exactly known for being particularly chivalrous when it came to girls—but instead of his usual boasting, he’d only offered a brief _Betty’_ _s_ _pretty chill_ before paying for his Gatorade and hastily retreating to his lifeguard chair.

Kevin had figured that it would be just another slow summer in Riverdale—but, given whatever was brewing between Reggie and Betty, plus Moose’s increasingly obvious hints that they meet up in the break room to “practice CPR together” (it was flattering, and he _was_ cute, but Moose and Midge had been together since middle school, and Kevin didn’t need to add _homewrecker_ to his reputation. _Gay_ and s _heriff's son_ was already hard enough in this town), the summer was shaping up to be _way_ more exciting than expected.

“Kevin does indeed bring up a very important point,” said Veronica, clasping her hands together. “Last I checked, you kinda-sorta liked Reggie. What’s going on, B?”

Betty kept her eyes on the throw pillow, tracing its seams with her fingers. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. She had somehow neglected to mention the key details from that night to her friends. Nothing had actually _happened_ with Jughead _,_ she’d reasoned; he’d literally turned around and left once he’d seen her—and it didn’t have anything to do with Reggie, anyways. “I guess I just lost my nerve.”

“Wait, what?” asked Archie sharply, crinkling his brow. Betty hadn’t mentioned Reggie again since before finals, and he’d had been relieved to assume that this bizarre flirtation between them had finally fizzled out.“I thought you said it was a weird night.”

“It was. I mean, it was nice—it just was also kind of weird.” Betty scrambled for an explanation other than the truth. She’d tried so hard to convince her friends that she was finally ready to move on; there was no way she could admit that she was still so thrown by Jughead after all this time. “Besides, it’s irrelevant. I’m not sure there will be a next date. I told him I’d plan it, and I’m stumped.”

“A date with Reggie Mantle? I guarantee you’re overthinking it,” scoffed Archie. But Betty looked a little hurt, so he offered, “Why not just stick to what works? Keep it simple—dinner and a movie.”

“Definitely not,” Betty said with a laugh. “Sorry,” she added, noticing Archie’s confusion. “It’s just—uh, never mind. Inside joke.”

 _Betty ha_ _s_ _inside jokes with Reggie?_ Archie wondered, feeling a twinge. He didn’t know why, but he felt irritated at the thought—she shouldn’t spend so much effort on Reggie when he clearly wasn’t worth her time, he decided. He wasn’t even putting that much thought into things with Veronica—whom he actually _liked_ —and she didn’t seem to mind.

“Well, B—I’d say, if you’re trying to impress him, go all out,” suggested Veronica. “Woo him with roses, fancy French cuisine and dancing. Lean into it and embrace the high romance, you know?”

“I think that’s your dream date, not Reggie’s,” teased Kevin, and Archie grimaced. “I’m pretty sure Reggie just wants to make out and maybe watch sports.”

“Yes, but _I’_ _d_ also like to have a good time,” Betty retorted.

“So skip the sports,” suggested Veronica. “Because clearly, you _do_ want to make out with him.”

Betty could feel her face heating up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh pul-lease,” Kevin laughed. “Like you’re interested in Reggie for the scintillating conversation.”

“I can’t really explain it, but he’s really different than I thought he’d be,” said Betty with a shake of her head. “Not in a bad way, just… different.”

“Not quite what you expected?” asked Kevin. “No offense, but with Reggie, I think that’s definitely a good thing.”

This was spiraling out of control, thought Archie. “Guys, trust me,” he blurted, unable to keep the resentment entirely out of his voice. “I’ve known the guy practically my whole life. Reggie has no deeper layers.” It was easy for Kevin and Veronica to encourage Betty; they didn’t really know Reggie—but Archie did, and there was no way that this would work out without her getting hurt.

“Hey!” Betty was surprised to find herself coming to Reggie’s defense so emphatically, especially considering that, as of a few weeks ago, she probably would have agreed. “Not cool, Arch.”

Mouth slightly agape, Kevin tried to make eye contact with Veronica. Truthfully, he never would have guessed that Reggie and Betty would click, but Archie’s reaction? Well, that was even more entertaining. Maybe it was shaping up to be a exciting summer, after all.

Veronica reached for her purse, rummaging for her lipstick to give herself a moment to think. Since the thought had first occurred to her, she’d done her best to ignore the sinking suspicion that Archie’s platonic feelings for the girl next door were clearly not so chaste and virtuous anymore. _And maybe_ _t_ _hey haven’t been for awhile,_ she realized with a jolt.

“Harsh, Archiekins,” she said evenly, despite the rush of emotions swirling inside her, as she checked her lips in her compact mirror, then snapped it shut and dropped it back into her bag. “Maybe Betty just brings out the best in him, like she does for all of us.”

“Thanks, V,” said Betty with a laugh, eager to ease the tension in the room.

“Maybe,” Archie acquiesced, still feeling annoyed. But Veronica was looking at him so reproachfully, he was starting to regret letting his irritation get the better of him. “Anyways. What are we watching next?”

“It’s movie marathon night,” said Kevin, still enthralled by the glaring awkwardness. “ _Pitch Perfect_ _2,_ obviously.”

___________________________

The closing credits to _Pitch Perfect 3_ rolled across the screen. Betty yawned and roused herself from the couch. “I should head home,” she said regretfully. It was getting late and she had work the next day. Kevin had already left, citing an early shift at the pool along with depreciating success of the _Pitch Perfect_ franchise. (“Other than the overtly queer chemistry, the third movie is by far the worst,” he’d declared on his way out the door. “Besides, it’s basically just queer-baiting at this point. Call me when the writers are brave enough to have Beca and Chloe actually make out.”)

“I’m gonna miss you so much, V,” said Betty, pulling Veronica up from the couch and into a hug. “I can’t believe you’re leaving for the whole summer. What am I going to do without you?”

“I’m going to miss you too, B” echoed Veronica—though, given tonight’s realization, she was suddenly looking forward to leaving Riverdale for awhile. Watching Archie moon over Betty was not how she wanted to spend her summer vacation. Plus, she was pretty sure that Kevin had noticed Archie’s over-reaction, too. It was humiliating, even if no one else knew what was going on between them. “And actually,” she added as she reached into her bag and pulled out a small bottle of champagne, “this is for your date with Reggie—wherever you decide to take him.” In truth, she’d been saving it to split with Archie once they were alone, but _that_ was no longer going to happen. Whatever romantic evening she’d envisioned for their last night together was certainly off the table now.

“What?” laughed Betty, surprised and delighted. “V, this is totally unnecessary.”

“I know, but I want you to have it,” replied Veronica. “And before you tell me that Alice Cooper will find it and lock you in a tower forever, I’m sure Archie can stash it for you.” Seeing Archie scowl briefly, she knew it was vindictive; she even felt a little like her old New York self—but she was Veronica Lodge. She was no one’s second choice. “You don’t mind, do you, Archiekins?”

“It’s fine, I guess,” mumbled Archie. It was definitely _not_ fine (Betty could do whatever she wanted with Reggie, but that didn’t mean he had to help), but he couldn’t think of a good excuse to say no.

“Thanks,” smiled Betty, as she opened the door to leave. Maybe her friends were right; maybe she was overthinking it. Each time she’d been out with Reggie, he’d managed to surprise her. Maybe it was time for her to take the lead, instead. (Plus, she reminded herself, since she was over Jughead, there really was no reason to feel conflicted.)

___________________________

“Do you want to stay a little longer?” asked Archie, once he and Veronica were alone. He stood up from the couch and smiled at her broadly.

Gazing at him coldly, Veronica was struck by how open and inviting Archie looked. He seemed so genuinely happy to be here with her—so hopeful. She looked down at her nails, keeping her face impassive. He was, she thought icily, fucking unbelievable. “No, I think I should go,” she replied, sliding into her heels.

Archie was surprised at her response. They’d been hooking up for over a month now; he’d figured that she’d stay over. Though they hadn’t discussed it, he’d been looking forward to spending one last night together.

 _Oh_ , Veronica realized as she watched his face fall with disappointment before he caught himself. _He has no idea he likes_ _Betty._ Somehow that made it worse, she thought as she walked to the front door. Archie had never been good at hiding anything (except he’d managed to keep their hook-ups a secret—a fact that she’d first interpreted as a good sign, but now seemed like exactly the opposite). Even if he hadn’t realized it yet, his feelings for Betty were impossible to miss.

Archie trailed behind her, confused and slightly lost. He wondered what he’d done to piss her off, or if maybe she wanted a clean break for the summer. He wished they’d discussed what they meant to each other earlier, he realized. He had no idea how to bring it up now.

Through the window, Veronica could see that her driver had arrived and was waiting at the curb. Despite reminding herself that she and Archie had never been anything serious, she couldn’t entirely quell the hope that this night would end differently. Hesitating, she turned again to face him. “Have a good summer, Archiekins,” Veronica added, then leaned over to kiss his cheek and stepped outside, quickly shut the door behind her. She was determined to leave before he could formulate the unasked questions rushing between them, before she could say something she’d regret.

 

 

___________________________

Reggie’s summer had settled into a predictable, easy rhythm: he’d wake up, grab breakfast and pick up Moose before heading to the pool for work. Afterwards, he’d drive them to Moose’s house where they’d crash in the garage to relax—play video games and drink a few beers. At some point Midge would show up, usually with a pizza or burgers from Pop’s. A few times, she’d scored a little jangle and would bring that, too. Eventually at some point in the night, Moose would inevitably pass out and Reggie take off, back to repeat the cycle again in a few hours.

Today had gone no differently. It was after midnight, so Moose had already finished off most of a six-pack and was about half a beer away from falling asleep. Midge was quickly losing interest in the game of darts that she and Reggie had been playing and instead had cuddled into her boyfriend on the futon.

It was probably time for him to head out, Reggie thought. He closed one eye and idly threw his last dart, just missing the bullseye. “Alright,” he announced, clearing his throat. Moose’s eyes were already shut, and Midge didn’t bother to look up from her phone. “As much fun as this is, I think I’m gonna take off.”

Reaching for his keys, he felt his phone buzz and grinned to himself in surprise when he saw Betty’s name on the screen. _< __Any chance you’re free_ _on Saturday_ _?_ _>_

After their date at Pop’s, Reggie had spent the first week convinced that Betty would most certainly call him, and the following one telling himself that he didn’t care that she hadn’t. (There were plenty of other girls out there, he’d told himself—less uptight girls that didn’t require nearly so much effort.)He still wasn’t sure what exactly had gone wrong that night, but it felt like the ball was definitely in Betty’s court.

< _Wow_ _C_ _ooper,_ _took you long enough >_ Reggie typed back. _< I was starting to think you’d forfeited  > _

After a few seconds, a reply appeared. _ < A Cooper never __quits._ _Th_ _at_ _date night championship title is mine_ _ > _

Weekends at the pool were generally a disaster, but by some miracle Reggie was only scheduled to work until noon on Saturday. He’d been looking forward to the night off and had been hoping that Cheryl would decide to throw one of her infamous summer parties, but so far it was looking like more of the same: beers in Moose’s garage. He paused before replying, still considering telling Betty that he was busy. It was only a few days away, and she’d kept him waiting for over two weeks. Instead, he wrote _< Saturday works_ > After a few seconds, he added _< What time should I __pick you up?_ _ >_

The replies were nearly instantaneous: _< __Ahem,_ _I’ll_ _pick YOU up._ _>_ _< __i_ _s 3:30 too early? >_

Reggie smiled to himself. _< __No, thats fine > _he typed. _< __Any hints?_ _Dinner reservations with the geriatric crowd? > _

_< haha, no. Just bring a water bottle and wear comfortable shoes  >_

“Hey wait, Reg—before you leave, can you pass me my beer?” asked Midge, startling Reggie. He’d been so distracted, for a second he’d forgotten he was still in the garage.

 _< Shoes only? No other clothes? __Surprising_ _kink Cooper,_ _but sure_ _ >_ he sent back, before looking up from his phone to see Midge eyeing him with interest. “You’re smiling like an idiot, you know,” she noted. “Who ya texting?”

“No one special,” Reggie replied brusquely, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He grabbed her drink and walked across the room to hand it to her on the futon, lying next to Moose, fast asleep and now snoring loudly. “See you tomorrow, Midge,” he added as he left, ignoring her raised eyebrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh... hello there. 
> 
> Hi. Sorry that I haven't updated this in... over a year?! A few things happened, like I had a baby and also Riverdale just went wildly, absurdly off the rails (what was that Black Hood nonsense, I ask you). But I swear, I'm back now, with semi-regular updates. As regular as an infant will allow, at least. 
> 
> Some notes on the chapter:
> 
> 1\. I maaaaybe just have zero fucks to give for Varchie? Spoilers, I guess, for where that's ending up in this fic of mine.
> 
> 2\. I can't believe the show KILLED OFF MIDGE, I have such _plans_ for her.
> 
> 3\. Also, I can't believe the show is teasing a Veggie love connection. Give the people what they want! Go Beggie or go home.
> 
> 4\. If you've been reading this fic since the beginning, thank you so much for sticking with me. If you're new here, hi! Tell me your Bughead and Beggie thoughts and feels in the comments. I am here for *all* of them.

**Author's Note:**

> A few things: This is my first fic (please be kind), and I don't even know what *happened* here. I set out to write a little smutty thing about (spoilers) post-break up Betty on a date and a very jealous Jughead, and somehow it's turning into a Betty/Reggie story, or at least a longer piece with some serious stopover in Retty (Beggie?) territory. Writing is weird, especially when the characters have minds of their own.


End file.
